Desperately Seeking Lancelot
by WinterStorrm
Summary: When Arthur Pendragon gets a bump on the head and wakes up with no memory he is mistaken for someone else and finally gets the chance to fall in love for real.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Desperately Seeking Lancelot  
><strong>Film Prompt:<strong> Desperately Seeking Susan  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>Arthur/Merlin (Gwen/Lance, Leon/Morgana, Arthur/Sophia)  
><strong>Rating: <strong>NC17/Adult  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>31,600  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>None  
><strong>Warnings (Highlight to view):<strong> Some recreational drug use.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavour.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I'm no fan of Madonna's acting, but I've always adored this film. Absolutely nothing to do with Aiden Quinn's big blue eyes, no siree! *cough*  
>Written for <strong>reel_merlin<strong> 2011.  
>Thanks to <strong>singlemomsummer<strong> for the beta; I've tweaked this since so any typos are all my own doing.

**This will be posted in three parts over three days. I hope you enjoy.**

**-0-**

"Hey, Arthur, do you fancy a drink after work tonight?" Leon stuck his head into Arthur Pendragon's office with a hopeful raised eyebrow and his trademark grin.

It was only just lunchtime and already Arthur would like nothing better than a pint or three right now, never mind after work. He shook his head with a small frown. "Sorry, mate, Sophia's having a party tonight to celebrate the launch of her new salon and as the husband I'm sort of obliged to attend." He would rather watch paint dry, but even though Leon was his best mate, he wasn't aware just how miserable Arthur's married life was. "Why don't you come along? You can save me from talk of hair extensions and nail extensions and _foils_– whatever they are."

"You paint such a tempting picture," Leon rolled his eyes, his grin still in place. "I'm gonna say 'why not?' It's not like I'm inundated with any better offers at this moment in time."

"Thanks, mate," Arthur said gratefully, suddenly dreading the evening ahead just a little less. "Come over about eight, half eight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Leon replied with a wink, and ducked back out of the door.

Arthur sighed and turned back to the seventy-three unread emails that were demanding his attention.

Twelve of them were from Morgana.

**-0-**

Lancelot DuLac really _didn't_ care that only twelve people came to hear his talk at the Glastonbury Assembly Rooms, or that the room they had given him was damp, in the basement of the building and had no natural light. Twelve people paying £5 each to listen to his lecture, at least a couple of whom would buy the book, plus, he had another talk scheduled later that afternoon which meant he would finish the day at least £100 better off than he had started it. Not that money meant much to him, not really; all it meant was a means to an end. He could afford to pay for a campsite tonight and would be able to take a legitimate shower rather than pulling his usual stunt of using hotel gym facilities when he wasn't a member. It was amazing how no one batted an eye at him when he donned his 'gym disguise'.

"Mr DuLac, could you sign this for me?" A pretty blond lingered in the doorway of the basement room having clearly waited for the others to leave. She proffered a copy of his book, 'Following the Line', which she must have purchased from the stand upstairs in the main hall. "I think this subject is simply fascinating," she said, batting her eyelashes and twirling a strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger.

Lance worried she had something in her eye.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned, taking the book off her and flicking to the inside cover. She smiled and nodded, releasing her hair in favour of nibbling delicately on her index finger and batting her lashes further. Lance frowned and said, "Whom shall I make this out to?"

"Can you write, To Vivian, All my love, please? And – can you write your phone number on there too?"

"I don't have a phone," Lance replied, thinking it odd that she would want it in the first place; if she had a query about anything in the book then there was a website and email address on the first page. He signed the book with a flourish and handed it back to her. "If you want to learn more about Ley Lines then I'm holding a two day course in London in a couple of weeks." He raised an expectant eyebrow at Vivian, pleased that he might have found another delegate for the seminar as so far it was only half full.

"Well, London is a bit far for me to travel," she replied, reaching into her shoulder bag and coming out with a card. "My contact details are on here if you ever run one around here – or if you need some company next time you're in the area."

Lance took the card. "I'll bear that in mind, thank you," he said pleasantly and tucked the card into his wallet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to prepare for the next talk."

Vivian walked slowly towards the door, pausing on the threshold to say, "Goodbye, Lancelot."

Lance was already shuffling his notes in preparation for the next talk and wondering where to go to grab some lunch because his stomach was starting to rumble. "Um – bye," he said, looking around for his jacket in case it was still drizzly outside. He heard Vivian huff and then her footsteps on the stairs, but she was already forgotten. He shrugged into his leather jacket and locking the old wooden door behind him he took the stairs two by two and burst out into the middle of the Glastonbury Mystic & Earth Spirit Fayre. He made a beeline for the exit, his mind filled with thoughts of food. He stopped at the newsagents to grab a newspaper and went over the road to Cafe Galatea where he ordered a vegan flan and soya milkshake.

Once he'd placed his order, he flipped straight to the personals page and almost scared the old couple at the table next to his to death when he punched the air and shouted, "Gwen – _finally_!" He swiftly followed his spontaneous cry of joy with, "Crap, that's tomorrow."

On his way back through the Fayre after lunch he stopped to admire some silver jewellery on a stall selling crystals and offering tarot readings with an eye on a clear crystal pendant for Gwen. "Can you put some cord on this?" he asked, placing it in the palm of his hand to show the stall holder.

The woman shrugged. "It's my Mum's stall and we've just run out of cord and she's gone back to the van to get some more. She won't be long, do you mind waiting?"

Lance glanced at the clock on the wall above the door and shook his head. His next talk started in five minutes. "I'm giving a talk downstairs, can you keep this on one side for me and I'll collect it on the way back?"

"No problem, if you pay now you can collect it later," she said, taking the pendant from him and placing it into a green velvet pouch. "Just stop by on your way out later and I'll have the chord for you."

Lance handed over a tenner, thanked the woman, and headed downstairs for his final talk of the day.

The rest of the day – and his talk – went slowly but smoothly. Now that he knew Gwen would be waiting for him in London tomorrow, he was impatient to get going. Lance did not get impatient about very much, but when it came to Gwen – Lance couldn't wait to see her again, it had been too long since they had last had any time together.

He packed up his things and took them back to the van where it was parked on a side street a few minutes' walk away. It was as he was settling behind the wheel he remembered the pendant. With a heavy sigh he locked up the van and headed back to the fayre, knowing Gwen would love it. As he walked back he fished the personals page from his pocket and ran his gaze over the ad again with a happy sigh.

When he found his way to the stall there was another woman there, presumably the mother if the shock of pure white hair was anything to go on. He put down the newspaper page and said, "I've come to collect something that was put by earlier." The woman's eyes widened and she nodded solemnly.

"Of course, er, Sir," she stammered and fumbled with pushing her glasses onto her nose, reaching into the money tin that was on the table in front of her, lifting off the top coin layer and producing a the small green velvet pouch. "Here we are."

Lance undid the ties and peered into the pouch. Sure enough there was a cord attached to the crystal.

"Is everything there?" the stall holder asked, nervous green eyes holding his.

"Perfect. Thank you for holding this for me." Lance said, offering her a smile. "I'll leave you to it then." He placed the pouch into his inside jacket pocket, and turned to leave, picking his way through the later afternoon stragglers milling around as the stall holders started to pack up.

As he left the hall he held the door open for a blonde woman who was on her way inside who didn't look at him and didn't even say thank you – Lance glared after her, annoyed. That was one of Lance's pet peeves. He huffed his way back to the van, cursing when the heavens opened and the rain water seeped into the hole in the bottom of his boot. He set off for London wearing a pair of pink flip-flops Gwen had left behind on her last visit, hoping his boots dried out before morning. He'd sleep in a car park somewhere when he got to the capital; he couldn't risk missing Gwen. He missed her; he _adored_ her.

He was half way down the M4 to London before he realised he'd left the newspaper advert on the market stall earlier. It was a good thing the advert was indelibly stamped on his memory.

**-0-**

Arthur was so bored he thought that going back to work and photocopying that ceiling high pile of contracts the office junior never ever got around to doing would be more interesting that this god-awful party of Sophia's.

Sophia, of course, was in her element, ever the perfect hostess, mingling with her guests with a joyous smile on her face, making sure all the guests were happy, and making sure that they knew they were happy because of _her_. Arthur couldn't even be bothered to feel bad that he wasn't enjoying himself. Even though Sophia had realised at the last moment that it was his birthday in two days' time and had made this a party for him at the last minute as well as a celebration for her new business, Arthur couldn't be less interested – the only people here for _him _were Leon and Morgana.

How could he be _twenty-eight_ already? Sometimes he felt as though his life was already over. He was married to a woman he couldn't stand, running his dead father's company and wishing he was doing anything but. How did his life end up like this? When he was a teenager he had been sure he would be a writer; he was going to write books that movie producers would snap up with glee and make huge blockbuster movies starring Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet, and then he would win an Oscar for best original screenplay. Or honestly, any derivation of that would suit him. He'd be happy without the Oscar, hell, he'd be happy just to be _writing_; he needed a something more than _this_.

Running his father's multitude of companies – under the umbrella of the Pendragon Corporation - had never featured in his plans for his life, but when Uther had been taken ill when Arthur was just finishing university with a joint first in business – taken to please his father – and English – he'd stepped up to the plate at Uther's behest. Neither of them had expected that Uther would only live another six months.

In that six months Arthur had married Sophia, the daughter of one of his father's oldest friends and his own plans were put to one side in favour of pleasing Uther and keeping him alive.

"Imagining that Oscar again, Arthur?" asked his sister, and bane of his life, Morgana, sitting down next to him and taking a delicate sip of a bright purple cocktail she had clasped between her elegant red tipped fingers.

Arthur glared at her, but his heart wasn't in it. Truth be told, Morgana was one of the only people in his life he enjoyed spending time with, and if that didn't say everything about the state of his life then Arthur didn't know what did. "No, I'm imagining you spilling that cocktail all over that ridiculous white dress you're wearing. Honestly, Morgana – what's going on with the white?"

She bristled, "Like you'd know anything about fashion!" She gave him her famous five second once over as though that proved her point. Arthur thought it was unnecessary to be honest. There's nothing wrong with his suit. It was Armani!

"Do not think for one minute that your ability to go to the Armani shop and asking them to dress you in the latest suit means that you know a single thing about fashion," Morgana interjected before Arthur could voice his objections to her assessment.

Arthur's retort died in his throat, because she was right of course. He knew he needed to look smart for work, but he didn't really give a fuck about clothes, what's in, what's out – sometimes he _thought_ he'd like to know – but what was the point? Who did he have to impress outside of work? Just Sophia, and honestly, he didn't think she would notice if Arthur were wearing a gimp suit with fluffy donkey ears.

He'd actually considered trying it just to prove a point.

"Enough about _you_," Morgana said cheekily, waving her free hand in his in front of his face. "Who is that?" She nodded in the direction of where Sophia was standing talking to a tall fair haired man. From the look in his face, he needed rescuing from whatever it was Sophia was talking to him about – at Arthur's best guess, the topic would probably be herself.

"That's Leon," Arthur replied, already feeling sorry for his friend if his sister was interested. "He's my new PA, he's just moved here – we went to uni together and kept in touch. He needed a job, I needed a PA…"

Morgana's fingers closed around Arthur's arm. "You're introducing me, _right now_." She shook her head and loosened her shoulders. "I can't believe you haven't before!"

Before Arthur knew it, he'd introduced Leon to Morgana and was feeling slightly guilty that the poor bloke was about to have his life taken over, but one look at his employee and good friend and he could see the stars in his eyes as he looked at Morgana and the guilt turned into jealousy. He'd never felt like that.

He doubted now that he ever would.

Sensing that no one would miss him, Arthur made his way to his study and switched on his computer. There was no time like the present for editing that last chunk of his book. Of course, before he got stuck in, he checked the national personals website, as he did every night – as he believed every writer should do religiously – that and people watching anyway – and he nearly died from joy when he saw the what he hadn't realised he'd been looking for:

Desperately Seeking Lancelot  
>Keep the faith. Saturday 12pm<br>Camden Lock Bridge  
>Love Guinevere<p>

"Finally!" he crowed and clicked 'print'. He loved these two – one might say he was a little obsessed - and although he wondered why they didn't simply text one another like any normal person in this day and age would, he was secretly pleased that they didn't, because if it wasn't for Lancelot and Guinevere – not that he thought for one moment that that was their real names – he wouldn't have 100,000 words of a novel in progress. Not that it was anywhere near publishable at the moment, but it was a start. It's what he'd always wanted to do, and he needed to see if he's even any good at it. He knew that if he didn't try then he'd never know.

_Saturday at 12pm at Camden Lock Bridge_. This time he was going to be there to see his muses for himself.

Arthur was still in his study at 1.30am when the final guests left with a cacophony of drunken chattering and singing. Sophia appeared in the doorway, a delicate moue showing her displeasure of him for abandoning the party. It was an expression Arthur saw almost daily and it had no effect upon him other than irritation.

"Honestly, Arthur, are you trying to show me up?" she said and the pout turned into a scowl. "You disappear half way through the party and hide yourself away in here – tonight was important to me; anyone would think you didn't care!"

Arthur didn't really, but he didn't say so because that would lead to a fight and he didn't have the energy. "I was catching up on some work." Sophia didn't need to know that he wasn't referring to his day job. The moment he'd heard her approach; he'd minimised his Scrivener and clicked on the emergency Excel document he kept in the background for such occasions.

"Oh, whatever, I'm going to bed – are you coming up?" Her hand was on the door knob when she added, "We could put some work into making a baby?"

Arthur felt sick. "Not tonight," he managed, trying to remember when they'd actually last had sex and coming up blank.

"Fine" Sophia huffed and turned on her heel, slamming the study door behind her.

Arthur tiredly rubbed his eyes and wondered how much long he could carry on like this.

The following morning, after just a couple of hours sleep on the couch in his study, Arthur made his way into London on the tube, watching with his writer's brain as the leafy suburbs of Richmond blended into the much more densely populated London districts. He loved looking through the dirty glass and into people's gardens or in through windows to gather a snapshot of 'other people's lives'. The deeper into London the train went, the more crowded the train became and Arthur switched from looking outside to watching other passengers.

He changed at Embankment for Camden Town, the nerves bubbling in his stomach as though it was _he _who was meeting the mysterious Lancelot and not Guinevere. What did they look like? Would they match their fictional counterparts that Arthur had written into his novel? In his head Lancelot was in a witness protection scheme on the run, and Guinevere the girl he'd had to leave behind. Their real names were Susan and Jim and they were soul mates.

He checked his watch, relieved that there was plenty of time left to get to Camden Lock and to put himself in place, ready to observe. Okay, so maybe this was an odd way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but this was the first time Lancelot and Guinevere had met in London since Arthur had first seen the ads– the places varied, but were mostly major cities around the UK. This was _research_ for his book anyway, it was _work_; and if they didn't turn out to be how he'd imagined them to be, then that was alright, his curiosity would be satisfied and he would enjoy thinking up a new life history for them.

Everybody else's lives were far more fascinating than his.

It was a hot June day, and the public were out in Camden en masse. Arthur fought his way through the packed streets to Camden Lock, worried that there would be too many people around for him to pick out Lancelot and Guinevere from the crowd. Everywhere he looked there were couples, holding hands, kissing, arguing – some of them looked happy, others looked sad, but not one half of them looked _lonely_. Arthur sighed and checked the time, 11.59am. Shit, what if they had arrived early and had already left?

That was when he heard, "Lancelot!" and Arthur turned his head so fast that he was lucky not to get whiplash. He saw a pretty young woman of mixed race with long curly black blue streaked hair – something not out of place in Camden - running along the bridge towards him, and the guy standing not five feet away from him, turning his attention from the water beneath the bridge and running to greet the woman, wrapping her in a tight hug and swinging her off her feet with a happy laugh.

Arthur sidled closer.

"Lance, I missed you so much," Guinevere said before kissing Lancelot. Arthur, now hiding behind a dog eared copy of yesterday's 'Metro' he'd had the foresight to pick up on the train, peered over the top to see the couple devouring one another, hands in each other's hair, one of Guinevere's hands cupping Lancelot's left buttock... Arthur took a moment then to study Lancelot. He hadn't seen his face yet, but what he could see was not unlike the Lancelot of his imagination. Average height, slender without being skinny, dark wavy hair – and he was wearing a leather jacket with a green and white spiral pattern on the back.

Guinevere was nothing like the girl in his imagination; he'd pictured straight long blonde hair that fell to the small of her back and at least six inches shorter; yet the real version seemed to match Lancelot perfectly.

They broke apart and Arthur heard Guinevere say, "I'm sorry, Lance, I can't stay – Freya's got us a last minute gig in Paris and we have to leave now to get there in time on the Eurotunnel. It's good publicity for us and-"

"Oh come on, Gwen – I drove all night to get here!"

Arthur lowered the newspaper without even realising and openly stared.

"I'm sorry – Freya only arranged it this morning – we're supporting The Sidhe!" She searched Lancelot's face expectantly but it was clear he'd never heard of the band. Look – I'll be back in a few days and we can hook up then? She rolled her eyes affectionately. "You've got that talk in London soon, we can get together then, right? I wouldn't do this if I didn't think we'd get some good publicity from it."

Arthur could tell from Lancelot's body language that he wasn't happy with this, but nevertheless he nodded. "Fine, Gwen – you know I love you regardless - but next time I'd like more than five minutes with you."

Guinevere leaned into Lancelot's ear and whispered something that Arthur couldn't catch before catching his chin in her hands and leaning up to kiss him gently. "I wish you'd get another phone," she said. "We could talk every day."

"I'd only lose it," Lancelot replied, sounding like a man who had lost many phones before finally giving up trying. At least Arthur had his answer as to why they communicated via the personals.

"You really are a luddite." The teasing insult was said with a smile. She reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. "Here's Merlin's card. Why don't you give him a call whilst you're in London? He'd love to meet you and I think you'd both get on."

Lancelot took the card and said, "Maybe I will." He put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "If you think so highly of him it stands to reason I'll like him as well."

"Right, well, Elyan's parked the van on double yellow lines, so I really have to get going." Another kiss and she'd spun around and was half-running down the road, the Saturday shoppers parting to let her through. She reached a battered old transit van, turned to wave at Lancelot, and hopped into the passenger seat.

Lancelot's shoulders deflated and he turned, catching Arthur's guilty gaze and smiling the polite smile of a stranger, before walking to the side of the bridge and leaning over to look at the canal below. Arthur watched him from beneath his lashes, utterly fascinated at the prospect that this man had driven all night to see Guinevere, and they had only spent five minutes together – yet they were clearly completely smitten.

After a few minutes Lancelot sighed heavily, pushed back from the metal of the bridge and straightened his shoulders. He started to walk over the bridge away from Arthur. Without thinking, Arthur tucked his newspaper under his arm and followed.

Lancelot wasn't exactly a fast walker; Arthur would say he was more of an ambler, as he kept a good few metres behind him. This was his first attempt at following someone, but he'd seen enough movies to know that you were supposed to stay well back and keep plenty of other people between you.

It was actually the most fun Arthur had had in a long time.

When he reached the entrance to the Stables Market on the left Lancelot veered right, into the market. Arthur hesitated for a moment before following him inside, still keeping a stealthy distance as his quarry weaved through the crowded market, pausing to admire a couple of different stalls before eventually re-emerging back onto the main road and heading down towards the shops. He stopped outside a small shop front to admire the contents of the window. Arthur stopped and pretended to admire an Indian bedspread on a street stall, all the while keeping his eyes on Lancelot.

When Lancelot appeared to make a decision and entered the shop, Arthur walked over to look in the window, making a split second decision and following him inside. He headed towards the rock band t-shirts near the back. He pretended an interest Pink Floyd versus Led Zeppelin whilst covertly watching Lancelot from narrowed eyes.

"How much for the boots in the window?" Lancelot was asking the man at the desk.

"Ninety quid." The cashier glanced up at Lancelot when asked the price and back down at the notebook he was writing in as he replied. Arthur thought that he would never buy anything off someone with such poor customer service skills.

Arthur heard a heavy sigh. "Aw, seriously? I can't afford that! I really need some new boots, mine are worn letting in the rain and those are just what I need-"

"I'll swap them for your jacket," the cashier said in a bored tone. "They're worth about the same."

Lancelot sighed and ran his fingers down over the collar fondly. "Me and this jacket have been through a lot together, but for those boots-" The cashier stopped scribbling in his book and turned to lift the boots out of the window.

Arthur stared intently at a Smiths t-shirt for a minute, desperately aware of how small the shop was and not wanting Lancelot to get suspicious of him. When he glanced up again, Lancelot was pulling on the boots – classic biker boots with three buckles down the sides. He shrugged out of the jacket and handed it to the cashier.

Arthur's mobile phone shrilled loudly in his pocket, the ring tone Morgana had set for herself – Into the Groove by Madonna - and in his haste to silence it, he dropped it and it clattered underneath the rack of t-shirts. "Shit," he muttered and dropped to his haunches to scrabbled around for it as it continued to bellow out the cheesy eighties pop.

When he closed his hand around it the damned thing had stopped ringing of its own accord. He staggered to his feet, he glanced over at the cash desk – Lancelot had gone. "Shit," Arthur said again. He made it to the door in three steps and pushed his way outside, looked left and right – the street was milling with people but there was no sign of the man he had been following. Lancelot had gone. Arthur drooped in disappointment as reality crashed back down over his head. What the hell was he even thinking, following a stranger like he was a crazed stalker?

"Hey – you gonna buy that t-shirt or what?"

Arthur turned and found the cashier was standing in the doorway behind him, hands on hips looking pointedly at Arthur who only then realised he still held a 'Viva Hate' t-shirt in his left hand. "Uh – sorry!" He smiled politely at the man and followed him back into the shop and once he had replaced the t-shirt on the rail he noticed Lancelot's jacket was still on the counter. Before he could stop himself he asked, "How much for the jacket?"

**-0-**

"Arthur, what on earth are you wearing?" Sophia asked the moment that Arthur stepped through the front door later that afternoon. She was checking her appearance in the hall mirror, clearly on her way out.

Arthur shrugged out of the jacket and hung it over the bottom of the bannister, knowing how much that annoyed his wife. "It's a retro jacket."

"Retro? Doesn't that just mean second-hand? What, are we poor all of a sudden?" Sophia's face was such a picture of disgust that Arthur felt all the anger and annoyance that he'd been suppressing for years bubbling to the surface. The bloody woman was so shallow! "Anyway, I'm going out with the girls tonight so I'll see you later." Oblivious to Arthur's agitation she breezed past him, air kissed his cheek and in a cloud of cloying perfume, she was gone.

With a heavy sigh Arthur grabbed the jacket and swung it over his shoulder. In his ire he almost missed the simultaneous jangle and thunk of something hitting the floor. When he looked down at his feet he found a set of keys and a small velvet pouch. He crouched down to pick them up, curious. The keyring had no fob, just two keys, and when Arthur delved into the pouch he came out with a clear crystal pendant with a silver dragon wrapped around it on a black cotton cord.

His fingers tingled as he traced the surface. Arthur's mood lifted slightly. A dragon for a Pendragon.

Lancelot had not checked his pockets before handing over the jacket! Arthur checked the rest of the pockets which were empty apart from a small business card that read: Merlin Emrys, Contemporary Jewellery Design with a phone number on the front, and when Arthur flipped it over, there was a list of retail outlets as well as Camden Market, Spitalfields Market and Greenwich Market. Of course – he'd seen Lancelot take the card off Guinevere – Merlin was one of her friends who she'd suggested he call.

Beneath the text, so pale it was almost a watermark, was a grey dragon.

All anger at his wife forgotten, Arthur's face split into a shit eating grin. This was better than he could have hoped for!

**-0-**

It was Sunday morning before Lance realised he'd left his van keys in his jacket pocket. He'd dropped in on his best friend Percy who worked in the café bar in the basement of the Royal Court Theatre, and had ended up going back to his for a few drinks and a smoke. They'd ended up drunkenly planning a trip to Brighton for the following morning with an overnight stay in the van; but when they reached the spot where he had parked the van before going to meet Gwen the day before, Lance automatically went to put his hand in an inside pocket that was no longer there realisation dawned.

"Dammit! Sorry, Percy, looks like we're not going anywhere, I've left my keys in my old jacket." He wanted to kick himself, but if he did that every time he lost something he'd be permanently black and blue.

Percy shrugged. "Want me to break in?"

"No! I mean, I'm sure they haven't sold my jacket yet, we just need to go to the shop and find the key."

The shop was closed with a sign in the window saying, 'Closed for family party'. Lance was thoroughly screwed until tomorrow.

"Want me to break in?" Percy suggested for the second time that morning, nodding towards the shop.

Lance sighed. "No – thanks. Let's just go to the pub and I'll deal with it tomorrow."

Lance went back to the shop first thing on Monday morning on his own to discover that his jacket had been sold. "Did you find a key?" he asked, itching to kick himself for real.

"Nah, mate," said the cashier, a notch more friendly than he had been last time. "Sold the jacket right after you left, didn't I? Hadn't had time to do the pocket checks."

"Do you remember who to?"

"Some blond dude I think – a bit posh, like. I didn't really pay all that much attention."

"Right, well – if he finds the key and brings it back – could you call me on this number?" Lance grabbed a post-it off the side of the till and wrote Percy's number on it.

"No problem, mate," the cashier took the number and put it into the till.

Lance was about to leave when he spotted the newspaper on the counter. "Mind if I have a quick look?" Lance could never _not _check the paper when he got the chance; there could be another ad from Gwen to meet up on her way back from Paris.

"Take it, I'm done with it."

Lance shoved the newspaper under his arm and went to the café over the road for a banana milkshake and a read of the paper, paid for with the last of his loose change. His eyes widened when he saw the advert in the personals:

Desperately Seeking Lancelot  
>Regarding key. Tuesday 12pm<br>Camden Lock Bridge  
>A Stranger<p>

Lance sighed in happy relief. His whole life was in that van and he couldn't afford repairs if he had to ask Percy to break in and for a new barrel for a new key.

He'd lost the spare key three years ago in Ireland when researching his book on Irish Ley Lines. It had been a mistake to accept a drinking challenge from an Irishman.

"Good going stranger," he said, earning himself a funny look off the waitress. He threw her his most charming smile and earned one in returned, before re-reading the advert. Pleased as he was that the stranger wanted to give him back his key, he couldn't help but wonder how they knew to contact him this way. He supposed he must've left a cutting of one of the ads in his pocket as well.

Anyway, he could stay at Percy's for another night and go and get his key back tomorrow. He did wonder who the stranger was, but decided not to worry too much. Lance was a great believer in everything happening for a reason.

**-0-**

Merlin Emrys was putting the finishing touches to a commissioned piece when his mobile vibrated in his pocket. Wiping his hands on his jeans he fished it out of his pocket and pressed the answer button. "'Lo?"

"Merlin, thank God! It's me, Gwen."

"Oh hi, Gwen. You sound flustered, is everything okay?" Merlin picked up the ring he had been working on and held it up to the light. It was almost ready.

The phone crackled as Gwen must have gone under a bridge, cutting off the first half of her sentence. "…favour? It's Lance. Someone's put an ad in the paper asking to meet him tomorrow – I'm worried it's one of those weird women that stalk him around all the time. He's so clueless, Merlin. He really doesn't realise how attractive he is, and all those women that come to his seminars- Would you go and make sure he's alright?"

"Gwen, I've not even met Lance yet! And I've got this commission to finish-"

"Merlin - _please_."

Merlin sighed. He really didn't have time for this! But – Gwen was one of his oldest and best friends. It had always been Merlin, Gwen and Will against the world. "Can't Will go? He has _met _Lance after all."

"He's on holiday in Spain with his cousin, remember? Anyway, as if I'd let Will near a possible stalker – he'd start a fight regardless!"

Merlin laughed, despite himself. Will was ridiculously protective of people he cared about. "Point taken." He glanced at his watch and suppressed a groan. "When and where?"

"Noon, Camden Lock Bridge."

"Gwen, that's in half an hour!" Merlin mentally wrote the afternoon off; he didn't live that far from Camden, but the place was a traffic nightmare, even when the market wasn't open. "Alright, fine – how will I know who Lance is?"

"He'll be wearing a leather jacket with a green and white spiral on the back, you can't miss it."

"You want me to call you when I've found him?"

"Please – though we're off now to the South of France, Freya's on fire sorting out more gigs for us and Elyan's insisting on taking the scenic route so I might not have a signal but please leave me a message."

"'Kay," Merlin patted his pockets in search of his keys before remembering they were still in the door. "I'd better get moving then if I'm going to make it to Camden in half an hour!"

"Merlin, I love you."

"Love you too, speak to you later, yeah?"

**-0-**

"Hello, have we met before?"

Arthur glanced sideways at the woman who appeared beside him as he leant back against the side of the bridge to scan the street for Lancelot. He was inordinately excited to be meeting Lancelot in person. Never mind that he and Sophia had had a blazing row that morning and he had finally spat out that he had had enough and wanted a divorce. The thought of his wife's face turning from lightly tanned to a furious purple when she spat '_no one leaves me_' was actually quite amusing. He should have done that years ago, and he really didn't have an excuse as to why he hadn't other than apathy. He was in no mood now for being hit upon by a glamorous blonde woman – no matter how attractive she was.

"I don't think so," he replied and shuffled along so that she was out of his personal space and frowning when she followed, clearly not taking the hint.

"Oh, I think we have," she purred, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his arm.

Arthur shook his arm free, meeting her cold blue eyes. "I _said_no, now would you mind-"

The smile fell off her face. "There's no need to play it dumb."

"What-" The hand clamped over his arm again with a tighter grip. "Get off me!"

"You know what I want."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Arthur pulled his arm free again and stepped backwards just as the woman attempted to pull him towards her. It all happened so fast, one moment he was pulling away, the next he had lost his footing and was falling to the ground. His head hit the tarmac with a resounding thwack and everything went black.

**-0-**

"Hey!" Merlin jumped off his bike and pushed his way through the gathering crowd around the prone man on the floor. He vaguely registered a blonde woman retreating to a distance to watch – presumably 'the stranger' - as he crouched down beside the unconscious figure on the floor – the man in the spiral jacket – and said, "Lance?"

"Mhhnng."

"Back off folks," Merlin said to the gathering spectators. "He's with me. He's fine; it's just a little bump."

He ignored the indignant chuntering come from the crowd and placed a hand on Lance's forehead trying to sense if there was anything wrong with him other than a temporary loss of consciousness. Lance's eyes flew open and Merlin gasped – and for a second time seemed to stop - as he was faced with the biggest baby blues he'd ever seen, which just happened to be placed within a devastatingly handsome face. Marry that up with the deliciously mussed blond hair and the fantastic physique of the rest of him and Merlin couldn't help muttering, "Gwen has all the luck," as he shook himself out of his stupor.

"Where am I?" Lance said as Merlin removed his hand and smiled down at him, hoping he didn't look as dazed as he felt. "Who're you?"

"I'm Merlin. I'm a friend of Gwen's. She saw the ad in the paper and was worried."

"Huh?"

"Come on, let's get you up." Merlin glanced around him and saw that the persistent 'fan' of Lance was still hovering. He pulled him to his feet and led him over to the side of the bridge. "What was that woman after?"

"What woman?"

"The woman you were struggling with. Who was she?"

"I – don't know."

Lance looked so confused that Merlin's heart melted. He should have known that this wouldn't be as straight forward as Gwen had made out.

"You _are_Lancelot, right?" There couldn't be two people in London with that distinctive pattern on their jacket, and if there were, what were the chances of them both being in Camden at the same time?

"I – don't know."

"You _don't know_?" Merlin frowned. Gwen had told him that Lance was something of a hippy and prone to living in a world of his own a lot of the time, but not to the extent that he would forget his own name. "Have you got any ID on you?"

"Um-" Lance's brows drew together in confusion.

"Okay – I'm just going to search your pockets to see if you have a wallet." Merlin coughed. "Er – if you could check your jeans I'll look in the jacket."

He tentatively pushed a hand into Lance's jacket pocket. The first pocket held a small velvet pouch, which Merlin removed before checking the other, coming out with a keyring with two keys on it and a business card with his name on.

"This is my card, so I think I must have the right guy." Merlin held the keys up for closer inspection and reached out with his magic. "These are for a VW camper." He put the items back into the pocket and tried not to notice the fine blond stubble on Lance's chin.

"I can't find a wallet," Lance said with disappointment.

"Maybe it fell into the water when you fell over? How about a phone?"

Lance shook his head.

"Alright; let's go and get this bump checked."

Merlin took his second full on look at Lance then, annoyed when his heart rate increased. The poor man looked so _lost_and Merlin swore under his breath.

"I am _not_ attracted to Gwen's boyfriend."

**-0-**

Lance knew he should have walked to the meeting with the stranger, but he'd been running late following a few too many drinks the night before. So he'd taken the tube and the blasted thing had been stuck in a tunnel for twenty-five minutes. When he emerged from the Underground, blinking into the daylight to run to the rendezvous point, there was no sign of anyone looking as though they might be waiting for him, and certainly no one in his jacket.

Lance stopped a passer-by and asked them for the time, and when they said it was nearly half past twelve he kicked the side of the bridge in annoyance. "Ow!"

He was going to have to take Percy up on the offer of breaking in to his van. He needed his things!

Lance hobbled back in the direction of the tube station, cursing his stupid new boots for not protecting his toes when he was in the mood for kicking stuff!

**-0-**

Merlin took Lance to Uncle Gaius who was a retired doctor without a four hour minimum wait and plenty of connections in the right places.

"You'll need to keep an eye on him overnight, but otherwise his memory should come back within a couple of days," Gaius declared after running a few checks.

This wouldn't happen on Grey's Anatomy! Shouldn't he go for a scan or something?

"What – Gaius-" Merlin gaped. He glanced briefly at the still dazed looking blond before grabbing Gaius by the elbow and almost dragging him into the other room out of earshot. "He can't stay with me! I only met him this morning." As far as Merlin knew Lance lived in a camper van and had no fix address to go to.

Gaius smirked. "You should be gentler with your amore's Merlin." Then he waggled his eyebrows.

Merlin felt the blood creep up his neck as the flush took hold; he was already finding Lance far more attractive than he'd care to admit. "He's not – Lance is _Gwen's_ boyfriend. You know the one who studies mystical energy or whatever."

"Oh." Gaius perked up at the mention of one of his favourite subjects. "Well, see to it that when he gets his memory back you bring him back to visit; fascinating subject, fascinating,"

Merlin huffed.

"Merlin, my boy, you of all people should take more if an interest in these things. With your _talents_– don't you want to know more about why you are the way you are?"

"I'm fed up of trying to find answers," Merlin said sadly, think back to his teens when he had been obsessed with researching magic. "It is what it is." Sometimes he thought he should he utilising his skills doing something more worthwhile than making jewellery, but he loved what he did and he had no intention of changing it anytime soon. The magic he kept hidden. Other than Gaius, only Gwen and Will knew.

Gaius' face was stamped with disapproval. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna call Gwen," he said. "She might know if he's got any friends he could stay with, because he's _not_ staying with me."

**-0-**

Arthur felt dizzy. The man who had found him on the bridge was muttering under his breath as he grabbed his helmet from behind the seat and stowed it under his arm. Arthur nodded to himself – this guy was _Merlin_ and his own name was _Lance_– which was odd because he really didn't feel like a Lance; not that he knew what a Lance ought to feel like. He lifted his hands and stared down at them; these were his hands and they looked familiar. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the wing mirror on Merlin's bike he recognised himself, yet he couldn't place his own name to his face.

"Come on," Merlin said, tipping his head in the direction of what looked like an old warehouse and some fire escape steps. "I'm up here."

Arthur glanced around, confused. "People live _here_?" he asked. Surely this was an industrial area?

Merlin's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Yes, people live _here_," he replied icily. "There are four flats in this building actually and I only use the steps to get in because it's quicker – there is a front door as well. I work from home and my workshop is here too."

"Oh. What do you make?" Arthur tried not to pull a face; what a grim place to live and work. Yet – as he'd found out earlier when Merlin had somehow known where to find where he'd apparently left it – he himself lived in an old VW camper van. One of the keys that had been in his pocket had fitted perfectly, and Merlin had put his bike in the back when Arthur had stared blankly at the steering wheel he had sighed heavily and told Arthur to shove over, driving them both here and parking the van on the roadside.

Nothing in that van even looked vaguely familiar. Arthur sighed; everything felt wrong. _He lived in a van_. Apparently, he also wrote books about Ley Lines and old sacred sites of worship and that was how he spent most of his time. He didn't feel like he was a person who lived in van.

"I'm a jeweller," Merlin spoke over his shoulder, dragging Arthur back to the present, as he made his way up the stairs, rummaging in his pocket for his keys as he went. Arthur followed him, looking up at his figure as he did so; Merlin had a _nice_ arse.

Arthur stopped dead and blinked. Was he gay? He glanced back at Merlin's arse as he made his way up the stairs in front of him. _Yes_. He must be! He shrugged. Merlin's arse was certainly worth a second look.

For the first time since 'the incident', Arthur felt a smile breaking. There could be worse things than having to stay here with Merlin.

Merlin unlocked a door and pushed his way in with his shoulder. "This is it," he said, putting the helmet down on the floor just inside the door. "This is me."

Arthur gasped as the sheer size of the place, it was at least the size of – of – well, Arthur wasn't exactly sure about that, but it was on the generous side that was certain. The whole space was open plan, with just a couple of doors leading off which Arthur surmised was the bathroom and the official front door. The walls were red brick, and in the middle of the room was a ginormous glass statue of a dragon, lit from the bottom with a blue light that gave it a watery like feeling.

"Bathroom's over there," Merlin nodded towards a door in the far corner. "The place is a little sparse, Nim, my uh, girlfriend left me a couple of weeks ago and she took a lot of the ornamental stuff." He rubbed the back of his neck, a flush running over his sharp cheekbones.

Arthur dropped his rucksack – found under the bunk in the van – to the floor and said, "Where do I sleep?" He tried to stifle the disappointment that Merlin had had a _girlfriend_ even as another train of thought suggested that he could be bi.

Merlin's flush intensified. "I've only got the one bed." He met Arthur's eyes and quickly looked away again. "Um – we could get the mattress off the bed in the van and I've got a spare duvet and more covers."

It was on the tip of Arthur's tongue to suggest that he'd be quite happy sharing Merlin's bed, but he managed to bite his tongue. He didn't want to scare him off – or get kicked out.

The bed was on the opposite side of the room to the kitchen area, the dragon statue acting as a divider that kept the kitchen and dining area separate from the living and sleeping area.

The kitchen had a breakfast bar with two stools and the living area had a small flat screen TV attached to the wall with a red corduroy sofa and armchair – both of which screamed 'Ikea' to Arthur.

Why would he know that furniture was from Ikea but not know his own address?

"That's my workspace over there," Merlin continued, pointing at the area near the window which held a couple of large old desks strewn with tools and a battered looking laptop. "Please don't touch anything."

"I – that is – thank you for this. You don't have to."

"Yes, well, Gwen would never forgive me if I left her boyfriend to roam the streets with amnesia!" Merlin mock shuddered. "She can be feisty that one."

Arthur smiled at Merlin's theatrics and then the penny dropped. "What – _girlfriend_?" He was gay! He was pretty sure that he couldn't have a girlfriend, right?

"Yes – Gwen – she's the one who sent me to find you, remember?" He winced as he seemed to remember the amnesia. "Sorry – I keep forgetting."

"Er-" Arthur closed his eyes and tried to picture a Gwen and came up with nothing. The only face he could picture was Merlin's. Even Dr Gaius had faded to nothing already. Merlin was the only person he knew, his only anchor to whoever it was he supposedly was. _Lancelot_. What kind of a stupid name was that? "Are you sure my name is really Lancelot – I mean – Lancelot and Guinevere? Maybe it's just a pet name or something?" Somehow that was actually worse!

**-0-**

Merlin smiled and when Lance returned it his tummy flipped. Quickly he looked away. "Yeah, well, it's a standing joke between me and Gwen – all we need is an Arthur to go with Merlin and we'd be complete!"

He spotted his battered mobile phone on the kitchen counter where he'd left it in his hurry to go and find Lance earlier, the red light was flashing indicating a message, and the missed call list told him it was Gwen. He played it back on the speaker phone, watching Lance for a reaction to Gwen's voice.

"Merlin, did you find Lance? Can you call me back and let me know what's going on? Leave me a message if there's no signal, not sure where we'll be later."

Lance frowned. "She doesn't sound familiar at all!" He shuffled over to the armchair and flung himself down on to it, rubbing his eyes. Blue eyes rose to meet Merlin's worried gaze, "I'm sorry you're stuck with me."

He looked so fed-up that Merlin had to fight not to go over there and hug him; because this was someone he had only just met, who was vulnerable and confused, and _Gwen's_boyfriend, and this thrumming under his skin as his magic activated in the light of his attraction to Lance – it couldn't happen. Hugging the object of the attraction would not be wise. At all.

"Do you remember anything? Even the smallest thing could be important."

The blond head shook, "No – yes – when I close my eyes, I see a spiral."

"Like the one on the back of your jacket?" Merlin asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lance yanked the jacket off and held it up in front of him. "Oh yeah." He sighed. "Shit."

"You hungry?" Merlin asked as his own stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since his bowl of cornflakes that morning.

Lance immediately said, "Ravenous."

"Let's get some take-away then," Merlin suggested, mentally cataloguing the contents of his fridge and deciding that two mushrooms and a soya yoghurt weren't going to get them very far. "What do you fancy – pizza or Chinese?"

The reply was instant, "Chinese." Then Lance said, "How can I know that I prefer Chinese food yet not know my own name?"

"I don't know, maybe on some instinctive level you know what you do and don't like, it's just actual _facts _that are eluding you." Merlin picked up his mobile. "There's a menu stuck to the fridge. Why don't you have a look to see what you fancy while I try to call Gwen?"

"I don't have any money to pay for the food. I don't know where my wallet is or anything." Lance's expression turned to genuine worry.

"I can afford a take-away, Lance, don't worry about it." Merlin smiled at his uninvited guest and picked up his mobile, watching as he crossed the room to the fridge and began to read the menu, his face serious and his posture stiff. Merlin couldn't help himself, focussing in on the man's arse and thighs, and what thighs they were- Shit, no, no, no – he turned his back and hit 'return call' on his phone.

Gwen's phone went straight to voicemail. "Gwen, it's me, Merlin. Lance is fine." He didn't want to worry her with the whole amnesia thing whilst she was so far away. "He's going to stay here with me for a few days whilst he's in London." As soon as Merlin said it he knew it was true. There was no way his conscience would allow him to kick an amnesiac who didn't know anyone but him out onto the street. He was just going to have to rein in his ogling and lustful thoughts.

He finished the message to Gwen and almost jumped out of his shoes when he turned to find Lance right in front of him holding the menu. "Mushroom curry and rice please," he said with a small smile. "And – spring rolls?"

"That's exactly what I was going to order for myself," Merlin said, surprised. "I'll just double the order." He took the menu off Lance and tapped the number off the front into his phone.

When he'd made the order he went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. "Come on," he said. "We can eat on the roof."

He elbowed open the door next to the fridge and backed through it, which brought them into a small hallway with another two other doors. Merlin went through the first one, loving the instant breeze that floated down to greet him because he'd been up on the roof that morning and not shut the top door. He felt Lance following close behind. In his mind's eye, Lance was checking out his arse just as Merlin had checked his out earlier. He knew he was skinny but he also knew that these jeans did wonders for him. Nim had picked them out for him – three days before she'd left him for that wanker Myror.

He pushed all thoughts of his ex out of his head and stepped out onto the roof, admiring the view of various low buildings in front that gave way to the business district in ahead and the shimmering windows and lights of the offices there; still half in love with the Gherkin for the way it broke up the monotony of the skyline.

"I spend a lot of time up here in the summer," Merlin explained to Lance without prompting. He span around, one arm flung out to show off the various tubs of plants he had adoring the space, and the large, almost sofa-sized, bean bag he like to lie on and watch the stars.

"This is – nice," Lance said. "How do you keep the rain off that?" He nodded towards the bean bag.

Merlin could hardly say that it was magically moisture repellent so he lied and said, "It's got a cover."

Lance walked to the side of the roof and looked down at the street below. "How long have you lived here?"

"Three years. The building belongs to my mate Will so I get it cheap." He said the words then wondered why he'd felt the need to explain himself. "You've met Will – last time you were staying at Gwen's – but I was in Germany at the time so I couldn't be there."

Lance turned to look at him as he spoke, his lips twisted into a frown. "Thanks, Merlin – for taking me in like this – I wouldn't know where to go otherwise."

The desire to walk over there and brush the hair off Lance's face and to lean in and kiss those worried lips assailed Merlin and he looked away quickly. "Why don't you take a seat and light a couple of the candles – there's a lighter under that blue flowerpot – I'll go and grab some plates - the food should be here soon."

Merlin fled.

This was ridiculous. He was on the rebound, that's all – it had only been a couple of weeks since Nim had left him. She had taken some of their shared things but she hadn't taken his heart – her defection had come as something of a relief in the end. It was never a good idea to move in with someone following a one night stand that would never have been anything more had she not thought she was pregnant despite them having used a condom. By the time Nim had found out that it wasn't pregnancy making her late but some hormonal something or other, she had been living with Merlin for six weeks and that that had been nearly six months ago.

So no, Merlin had not been too sad to see the back of Nim, and the only thing he missed was the regular sex that came with having a live in lover. The presence of Lance in his living space, all blond and tanned and fucking gorgeous was of course going to be giving him inappropriate thoughts.

They ate their food side by side on Merlin's bean bag, the air still warm after the heat of the day. Once done, Merlin took the plates back downstairs, returning with more beer and his battered old radio.

"I just wondered if you remembered music, or if maybe music might help you to remember." Merlin placed it on the floor beside them and fiddled with the dial until he finally picked up a station. "It's not the best, but hopefully they'll play something familiar," he said, suddenly hyper aware of Lance's nearness, and of the romance in the setting – candlelit rooftop with soft music and moonlight.

The first song that offered its musical wisdom to the night was 'Enjoy the Silence' by Depeche Mode. Merlin watched as Lance concentrated before huffing out a breath and reeling off the song title. "Wow," Merlin laughed. "I half thought that if you couldn't remember personal facts that you wouldn't know this." The two of them waited in companionable silence for the next song which was Placebo's 'Teenage Angst', and this drew a blank face, yet Lance recognised 'You Held the World in Your Arms' by Idlewild and 'Helena' by My Chemical Romance.

"I could try tuning the radio into a more poppy station," Merlin offered. "Some eighties and nineties classics – even if pop wasn't your thing you'd be familiar with them by osmosis."

"No – leave it – this is nice," Arthur said, placing a hand on Merlin's knee and offering a megawatt smile that made Merlin's tummy do things that it hadn't done since Merlin's first crush when he was twelve. Will's Mum had never returned his affections.  
>He swallowed and said, "You know, you're not at all what I expected." Nervously he took a swig of his beer as his magic tingled beneath his skin in some kind of recognition of Lance's touch.<p>

"Oh?" Lance said, his hand moving higher on Merlin's thigh. "What did you expect?"

It was all Merlin could do not to throw the bottle onto the floor and straddle him. "Um, well, Gwen said you were gorgeous – and you are-" God, was he bloody gorgeous! "But she also said you were really laid back and – well I suppose that hitting your head like that and forgetting who you are isn't the most relaxing of things but – you're just not how I pictured you."

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

Merlin silently groaned. "You _do _remember what you look like don't you – or you saw your reflection in the bathroom mirror at Gaius'?" Merlin's bathroom didn't have a mirror.

A soft pink flush coloured Lance's cheeks. "I didn't look _unfamiliar _to myself, but I couldn't say I'd have known it was me if it was a photo and not a reflection." He looked so pathetic in that moment, so adorable, that Merlin's instincts kicked in and he leant forward and placed a kiss on Lance's lips. Lance froze briefly, the hand on Merlin's thigh tightening its grip, before he responded, teasing the seam of Merlin's lips with his tongue to request entrance, and before Merlin could blink, his bottle of beer was spinning across the rooftop and he was being pressed back into the softness of the beanbag as a surprisingly heavy Lance kissed him senseless.

God, Merlin couldn't breathe, and it wasn't from the weight of the man on top of him, it was the dizzy pleasure that rushed through his body, the tingle of the magic beneath Lance's fingertips as they held his hands above his head, from the sheer _want _that consumed him. He canted his hips upwards, feeling his cock harden inside his jeans as Lance plundered his mouth almost desperately. He couldn't think, all he knew was that he'd never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this man.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, sending his eyes wide and reality tumbling back. "Mph – no – Lance – stop!" he gasped, yanking at his hands for Lance to release them. Lance immediately sat up and shifted away from Merlin.

"Sorry – I-"

"No," Merlin said, finding his mobile phone and staring down at it with a frown, knowing it was Gwen who had been trying to get him. "I kissed you first – I shouldn't have – Gwen's one of my best friends!"

Lance reached out a hand to Merlin then seeming to realise what he was doing he pulled back and said, "I don't even _know_ Gwen, but you Merlin – there's just something about you."

"It's late and you've had a traumatic day," Merlin excused Lance's words, he didn't want to hear that there was 'something about him' – this man was Gwen's boyfriend, the man she had professed to Merlin on the very day she met him, that Lancelot DuLac was the man she was going to marry one day. Merlin knew she would've married him there and then if Lance hadn't been such a wanderer and Gwen's own lifestyle had been more stable. "Maybe it's a good time to turn in."

_He'd just kissed his best friend's future husband! _Fuck.

**-0-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the comments.**

**-0-**

Arthur watched in dismay as Merlin closed himself off and busied himself picking up bottles and snagging the radio, which was currently playing 'The Only One I Know' by The Charlatans as if to mock Arthur. Merlin _was _the only person he knew, literally, and he'd just royally messed that up. He couldn't care less about some bloody woman he'd never met and was certain he wouldn't be as attracted to as he was to Merlin. Geez.

He silently followed Merlin back downstairs to the flat feeling as though he was imposing all of a sudden, whereas before, he hadn't felt like that. Merlin didn't want him here.

"Why don't you go and get the mattress and some of your stuff from the van, and I'll make up my bed for you?"

Arthur nodded and fished in the jacket pocket for the van key and his fingers closed over the pouch with the crystal inside. "This was in my pocket as well," he found himself saying, offering it to Merlin for inspection. "What do you think?"

Merlin took the bag and delved inside to produce the pendant, gasping as he did and stepping back, dropping it onto the floor with a clink. His pained blue eyes rose to meet Arthur's. "What the – where on earth did you get that?"

Suddenly annoyed, Arthur snapped, "I don't remember do I?" Merlin slumped down in the armchair and dropped his head to his knees and Arthur's annoyance melted away and was replaced by concern. "Merlin – what is it?"

Merlin ran a hand across the back of his neck. "Nothing – it's just that necklace reminds me of an old family heirloom, that's all." He looked up and Arthur could tell his smile was forced. "I was surprised – I'm sorry, I know you wouldn't remember, it was a stupid thing to say."

"It's okay," Arthur picked up the pendant off the floor and edged towards the door. "I'll just fetch my stuff."

He made two trips to the van, one for the mattress and one for some clothes. The clothes were unfamiliar and he was certain he would never wear most of them, but knew that he must do. Merlin had finished changing the sheets on his bed and was standing nervously over it wearing a pair of black, incredibly low slung, pyjama bottoms and a skinny red t-shirt. "I've made this up for you." His eyes didn't meet Arthur's. "I'll be on the other side of the statue."

"I can't take your bed, Merlin," Arthur protested, horribly aware how little furniture Merlin already had in the flat. "I can sleep on the van mattress – presumably that's where I usually sleep anyway so-"

"You're not sleeping in on the floor with a head injury!" Merlin's voice rose and he blushed.

Arthur smiled, his heart rate increasing at Merlin's evident embarrassment. "Okay, thanks."

Merlin nodded and said goodnight before picking up the thin foam mattress and disappearing around the other side of the statue. Arthur went to the bathroom, and when he was done with his routine, he tied the necklace around his neck. When he came back Merlin was curled up on a makeshift bed with a happily purring grey tabby cat tucked into his side.

"Lucky cat," Arthur muttered to himself as he slid under the covers of Merlin's bed and closed his eyes on what he was sure had to be the most surreal day he'd ever had, only of course, he couldn't know that because he couldn't actually remember!

As he closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep, all he could see in his mind's eye was an image of Merlin, lying less than two metres away, and wondered if two metres had ever seemed so far before.

-0-

Lance wasn't sure what to feel as he stood staring at the spot where he had parked his van, a spot that now housed a shiny new BMW.

Some bloody wanker had nicked his van – bought his jacket, taken the key, gone to the effort of placing an ad to contact him – and then nicked the van anyway. It didn't make sense. Maybe they hadn't realised what the key was for? Old VW vans like his, with split window screens were very sought after, not to mention totally cool. His van had been his Dad's. As far back as Lance could remember his Dad had spent every Sunday morning cleaning the van, and then he'd take Lance and his Mum out for the day – rain or shine. Then sometimes, on a Friday night when his Dad came home from work, he'd suddenly announce that Lance and his Mum should get their stuff packed because they were going away for the weekend, and Lance would run upstairs and hastily pack some clothes, and they would head off and explore the British countryside.

Normally, Lance wasn't bothered about _things_; stuff was just stuff, and it didn't mean anything. It was all material. All the stuff in the van, he wasn't bothered. He could buy new clothes, he wasn't sentimental like that – if he was he'd never have swapped his jacket for those boots in the first place – but that van; it _mattered_, and he was going to get it back.

Percy was bound to suggest that he call the police, but Lance didn't 'do' the police. He didn't trust them, and certainly didn't appreciate the amount of times he'd been stopped and searched by them. Apparently he looked like he might be a druggy? He most certainly was not into drugs. A little bit of weed didn't count – right? Who didn't do weed?

So, the police were out of the question. He was going to have to try plan B. Only, right now, he didn't have one. Percy might have a better plan, which was why Lance was going to meet him at work. He could sit on a stool at the end of the bar and chat to Percy when he had a quiet moment. Besides, apart from anything else, he _really_ needed a drink.

The bar was quiet. As it was underneath a theatre, Percy was always complaining that it was crazy busy before the show started and rammed afterwards, but during the show, things were always slow. Lance found the stool he'd envisaged sitting on and asked Percy for a beer. "Can I owe you the money?" he asked his friend. "I'm all out until I get the van back." He always hid his money in a plastic wallet taped underneath the driver's seat, and that was where he'd stuffed the money he'd got from the fayre in Glastonbury the other day.

"You're like the bloody Queen you are, mate," Percy said, rolling his eyes. "She never carries any money either."

"I'll sort you out when I get the van back," Lance promised. "Now – any ideas on how I can get it back?"

"'S easy," Percy said. "Go to the police and tell them that someone's nicked it!" He nodded at a customer that appeared at the bar, but didn't move to serve him.

"I knew you'd say that and you know me - I'm not calling them," Lance huffed. "They're worse than useless anyway; any other suggestions? I wish Gwen was here, she'd know."

"You left my number at the shop where you sold the coat didn't you?"

Lance nodded and took a swig of his beer. "No one's rung though. Like they're gonna now they've got the van."

"Well, that's me done then. If you won't call the police-"

"Excuse me, is anyone serving tonight?" Lance turned to see the customer who had arrived at the bar a couple of minutes ago was glaring at Percy through narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, mate, be with you in a minute," Percy replied without looking at the man. "As I was _saying_– if you won't call the police then I don't know what else you can do."

"Oh fuck this," said the customer, pushing back from the bar and beckoning to a woman sitting at a table near the wall. "Come on, Liz, we're going somewhere else – apparently the staff here have better things to do than serve customers!"

Liz tottered to her feet and followed her partner up the stairs. Both Lance and Percy watched them leave before Percy shrugged and said, "Some people have no patience."

"And some people, Mr Armstrong, have no job," said a voice from Lance's left. "That's the third customer you've lost me this week and the last. There are people out there desperate for work – you won't be difficult to replace. I'll pay you for tonight – but don't come back tomorrow!"

"Viv, you're _firing_ me?"

"I believe that is what I just said," Viv confirmed icily. "No need to finish your shift."

"You can't fire him," Lance said optimistically. "Percy was just trying to help me with a legal matter."

Viv ignored him and glared at Percy. "Leave now and I won't prosecute for theft. Don't think I didn't notice your friend here didn't pay for his drink." She railed her red tipped fingers against the bar.

Percy yanked his serving cloth out of his belt and undid the ties on his black apron. "Fine," he said, slamming the stuff on the bar. "This is a fucking shit job anyway." He walked to the gap in the bar and stepped through, watching as Viv approached, staring down at her diminutive form from his advantageous height of 6' 5".

She reached out and yanked the red lanyard from around his neck. "I believe this is mine as well."

"You bi-"

Lance had left his seat and had his hand on Percy's arm before he could finish his word. "Come on, Percy, let's go home," he said with uncharacteristic sternness, yanking his friend's arm and heading towards the stairs. Under his breath he hissed, "Don't make this worse than it is!"

-0-

Merlin didn't think he'd gotten a wink of sleep all night. He _wanted_ to put that down to the crystal that Lance was currently wearing on a cord around his neck, but once he'd got past the shock from the initial magical surge the thing had given him, he could actually feel the crystal's magic thrumming. The pouch it had been in had obviously been silver lined otherwise Merlin would have felt the magic sooner.

Where had Lance acquired something so incredibly powerful? Merlin was no stranger to magical artefacts, he was who he was after all, but this was something else. It wasn't meant for Lance, he could feel that, but he could also sense that the crystal wanted Merlin to keep it safe; which was a bizarre sentiment to hold towards something that should be an inanimate object.

It was also how he felt about Lance; and thus the real reason for his insomnia made itself known. This ridiculous attraction to a man he had only met less than twenty-four hours ago, one who couldn't even remember his own name – someone who brought out Merlin's protective instincts. If only that were the only instinct Gwen's boyfriend aroused in him he wouldn't have a problem.

As the sun rose outside, Merlin gave in and after a couple of minutes stroking Dave the cat under his chin and earning himself a deafening purr, he rolled out of his makeshift bed onto his knees and stumbled to the bathroom. He was sporting morning wood even though he hadn't slept, deliberately not looking where Lance was sleeping on the other side of the glass statue.

He showered, staring down at the erection that refused to die, despite the cool temperature of the water and his attempts to will it away. Sighing, he clasped a hand around his arousal and braced his other hand against the wall: if it wasn't going to go away, he'd have to take care of it.

Closing his eyes he clamped his hand around his cock and immediately a vision of bright blue eyes framed with dark blond lashes appeared in his mind's eye. The owner of said eyes was on his knees staring up at Merlin before smiling, licking his lips and taking Merlin's cock out of his hand and into his own before lowering his head and engulfing it between his lips. Merlin bit his lip to stifle his groan, still aware enough that he was alone and that the blue eyes were actually on the other side of the door, closed in slumber.

Merlin loved Gwen, always had – Gwen and Will had been his best friends since he was old enough to talk. Never once had he been jealous of her, until now. Gwen had Lance; _and Merlin wanted him_.

He came explosively, all over the tiles, his heart beating so erratically that Merlin felt dizzy. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad.

-0-

Arthur stirred from his sleep when he heard Merlin coming out of the bathroom and watched him through narrowed sleepy eyes as he padded back to his makeshift bed with nothing but an old navy blue towel wrapped around his narrow waist. His hair was towelled dry and sticking up all over, there were droplets of water working their way down his chest towards the dark tapering hair that disappeared beneath the towel. Geez. There was just something about him; he certainly wasn't conventionally 'good looking' but at a second glance he was so much more… Merlin had a beauty that belonged on the catwalk or immortalised in a work of art somewhere, something that in three hundred years' time people would be flocking to see as it hang in a gallery somewhere at the end of a very long room, in pride of place… Arthur squeezed his eyes closed again and tried not to sneak another peek before Merlin disappeared behind the statue again.

Again, for the umpteenth time since he'd been given the news that he had a girlfriend, Arthur questioned the validity of what he'd been told. He'd spent the first few minutes after going to bed last night trying to think about women, about breasts and lady parts and honestly, he hadn't even felt a mild stirring. Then he'd heard Merlin turning over in his bed, his heavy sigh stretching over the short distance and reaching Arthur like some kind of siren's call.

Arthur had had to fight with himself not to get out of bed and crawl into Merlin's and wrap himself around him. It was ridiculous. All other possibilities aside, he'd only met Merlin yesterday! What if he did this all the time? He could be a serial love at first sight offender and fall in love with everyone he met! Why couldn't he access that knowledge? What if he was a horrible person? He _could_ be! Just because this Gwen person apparently thought he was amazing didn't mean _he_ actually cared about _he_r.

He could only hope that his head would sort itself out soon and that he would remember the person he was. He didn't think that his personality could be any different to how he was now; his thought processes would be the same regardless, wouldn't they?

Groggily he scooted out of the bed he'd slept in for the night and half-staggered over to the bathroom, stopping when he reached the door to ask, "Is it alright if I use the shower?"

"No problem, there's towels in the cupboard," Merlin replied, and Arthur didn't turn, just continued on into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a firm click and leaning back against it with a sigh. He'd have this shower, and then what? Merlin had a life and work he needed to be getting on with; his presence was just going to be a nuisance. But – where would he go? He had a van and- That was it. The van was all he had.

Arthur grabbed a towel out of the cupboard and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, shucked out of his sweats and climbed into the bath tub, eager to wash away the grime of the past twenty-four hours. Once the water was warm enough, he ducked his head beneath the spray and tried to clear his head in the hope that if he did so, some of his memories would return to him.

Instead, all he saw was Merlin's face as they'd broken the kiss last night. Knowing resistance was futile; Arthur reached for his cock and began to stroke.

-0-

"Well, you might know I haven't got any food in," Merlin said as he folded up the blankets off his temporary bed and snuck glances at Lance through the magnified glass of the dragon statue as he pulled on some clothes. "We can go to the café round the corner for breakfast."

Lance pulled a black t-shirt over his head and turned towards Merlin who quickly began to pay extra attention to his folding and hopefully managed to pull it off when Lance said, "I found some cash in the van last night, so breakfast is on me," he waved a twenty at Merlin who nodded in agreement. He had more than enough money to pay for the two of them, but he remembered the days when he had been forced to crash at a friend's house and how he'd hated it when they had tried to refuse his money.

When his eyes focussed on Lance's appearance up close, he frowned. "Levellers?" he said, instead of 'wow, that's _snug_.'

Lance looked down at his t-shirt and shrugged. "I don't know who they are but I must like them as why else would I have a t-shirt with their name on?"

"No – don't get me wrong – they're a good band," Merlin said. One his personal favourites in fact, but the t-shirt just didn't look right on the man standing before him. It was just that little bit too tight, and whilst on the figure of a man like Lance, tight was a good thing, it was more that it was _too small_. "Do you think it shrank in the wash?"

Lance flushed. "It's the best of a bad lot – I have to say I don't like my own taste in clothes!"

"Have a look in that drawer over there," Merlin suggested, nodded to a chest of drawers near the bed. "There's a load of t-shirts in there, some of them ought to fit. I when through a phase of buying t-shirts from gigs that were far too big when I was a teenager, and I haven't the heart to throw them away – some of those were great shows!"

"If you're sure-?"

"I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't," Merlin said with a smile and made a show of tidying up the blankets so that Lance could go and pick a t-shirt and put it on without Merlin ogling him.

Lance came back with a better fitted navy t-shirt that said 'Little Idiot' on the front. "Better?"

"Much," Merlin replied, using the opening as an excuse to stare at Lance's chest. "Let's go and get some food then. Gwen's flat is over the road from the café we're going to. Something might seem familiar." He headed for the door.

"I don't want to be a burden," Lance said from behind. "You must have stuff that you need to do today?"

"I'm self-employed," Merlin told him. "I've got a commission I need to finish today, but I've got time for breakfast. We need to talk about what you're going to do next."

It was testament to the great food and service that Godwyn's Café was still in business now that a Starbucks had set up shop around the corner. Merlin ate breakfast there at least twice a week, and often stopped in for a drink and a chat with Elena, his friend and the owner's daughter. Will had a thing for her, which never ceased to amuse Merlin, because Will normally had no problem getting a girl, but Elena was utterly oblivious to his flirting. Watching Will flounder was great entertainment.

"Merlin – what are you doing here with _him_?" Elena asked when she came over to take their order. She glared at Lance. "That parking space out of the front is _private_! Please don't leave your van there again."

"Y-you _know_me?" Lance stammered, his eyes hopeful.

"I wouldn't say that exactly, but I've seen you parking in Dad's space when you've come to see Gwen." She pointed at the spiral on the back of Lance's jacket. "There can't be two of _those_. Dad had to park three streets away last time you nicked his space!"

Merlin felt his stomach sink at the mention of Lance visiting Gwen. Although he knew very well who Lance was, if that knowledge was just his, then he could almost block it out and fantasise for a moment that he was just crushing on a hot guy he'd just made friends with, not a hot guy his best friend was in love with.

"Elena, chill out. Lance's had a difficult couple of days. He won't do it again, will you, Lance?"

Lance swiftly shook his head, staring at Elena, who still wore a fierce expression, with stunned wide eyes.

"See that you don't," Elena huffed, turning back to Merlin and smiling. "What can I get you?"

"I found this in the glove compartment of the van," Lance said as they waited for their order to arrive. He pulled a postcard out of his pocket and handed it to Merlin. "Do you know where this is?"

The postcard was an obvious mass produced promotional publication. "Royal Court Theatre," Merlin read. "I think this is near Sloane Square. I saw a play there when I was at school." He turned it over. There was nothing personal about it at all, the only thing that indicated that it might mean something to Lance was that it was slightly dog-eared, which showed that it had been handled a few times.

"I think I might go there and see if there's anything going on there that jogs my memory. I mean, I know you know Gwen, but she's not here, and you'd never met me before so you don't really know me, and the waitress there only knows me from my bad parking and fashion choices – until Gwen comes back – if I could find someone who knows _me_…"

"Well, take the Tube won't you? I don't think you're ready to take to the wheel just yet." He wanted to offer to go with him, but he couldn't afford the time.

"Course I will," Lance said, taking the postcard back and staring down at it. "I'll sleep in the van tonight, if it's okay to leave it parked at yours?"

"You will not. You can stay at mine again," Merlin reached into his pocket. "Here – it's a key to my place, for the front door. Let yourself in when you get back – don't worry about the time. Have you got my number?"

Lance nodded. "I've still got the card Gwen gave me."

"Good. Promise you'll call me if anything happens?" Merlin suddenly felt like a parent. If he'd handed Lance a lunch box and kissed his forehead right now he wouldn't have felt strange about it. He reinterpreted the feeling as that he felt protective of Lance. The man was his responsibility until he either regained his memory or Gwen came back. He decided that telling Lance this might set his minds at ease, "I promised Gwen I'd look after you, and I will."

Lance looked about to reply, his blue eyes searching Merlin's, when Elena came back with their order, "Here you are Merlin, your usual," she placed his scrambled tofu and toast in front of him. She was less gentle with Lance's order, clearly having taken a dislike to him for his parking infringements of the past. Merlin was surprised that Elena hadn't met Lance in person; Gwen was also partial to eating at Godwyn's. It was only due to bad timing that Merlin hadn't met Lance before – that, and he knew that due to Lance's nomadic nature Gwen often met him outside of London. She'd said that Lance and London didn't get on well at all. Looking at Lance now, Merlin didn't know what to think. It had to be difficult to not know _who_ you were and _where_ you were.

"Lance – you will come back, won't you?"

God, now he sounded like a needy person. Lance didn't seem to notice. He smiled, all crooked teeth and handsome good looks and nodded. "You're the only person I know, of course I will."

Merlin grinned back. Not exactly a flattering reassurance but good enough.

They ate in companionable comfort and Lance asked Merlin about his work. Merlin explained that he designed and produced bespoke gold and silver jewellery as well as made his own designs to sell at various markets around London – usually Greenwich, Spitalfields and Camden.

When Lance went to use the bathroom Elena came hurtling over and sat down in his seat, leaning forward conspiratorially to say, "He's so not what I expected! He's bloody gorgeous!"

Merlin narrowed his eyes, "You didn't think Gwen's boyfriend would be?"

"No – it's not that – of course he would be Gwen's gorgeous too. I mean that he's just – oh, I don't know – just _more _is all."

Merlin smirked. "Right, he's 'more'," he teased. "Any other pearls of wisdom?"

"Alright – I'm sure he's gay. There. If I didn't know he was Gwen's bloke, I would _swear_ he was gay," Elena said, folding her arms and sitting back to observe Merlin with an eyebrow raised in challenge. "Gay, and hot for _you _if I'm not mistaken."

Merlin felt the blush creeping up his neck, made worse when he spotted Lance coming out of the bathroom.

"Right then, I think I'll head off," Lance said. "I'll see you later?"

"No – wait – I'll come with you to find this place." He'd got the time for a tube journey to make sure Lance didn't get lost – he'd _make _the time. "Just to, you know, make sure you get there okay." When Lance looked ready to protest Merlin tapped his forehead to indicate amnesia, not wanting to announce it to the world.

"Okay, if you insist. Are you ready?"

Merlin pushed back his chair. "See you later, Elena," he said, pretending not to notice when she winked at him.

None of them noticed that the theatre postcard had fallen to the floor, and the two men had left the café before the blonde woman who had been sitting two tables down swept it off the floor and studied it for a long few moments before sliding it into her handbag.

-0-

Arthur didn't like to admit it, but he was grateful that Merlin came with him to the theatre. When he'd got to the Tube station, he'd had a momentary panic about what the hell he was supposed to do. Having Merlin there had been a comforting presence.

When they'd emerged at Sloane Square, Merlin's phone had rung and after a short conversation with someone called Will about access to a building, Merlin announced that he had to go, making Arthur promise to call him if he needed him and that he would come back to his when he was done here. Merlin had hugged him awkwardly, blushed furiously and hastily left.

Arthur watched as Merlin hurried back into the Tube station and once he was out of sight, he rubbed his eyes and headed up the stairs at the front of the theatre.

It was closed. Dammit. He searched around the information displayed near the large glass entrance door to see if there were any opening times displayed, hoping that the box office would be open soon.

"Hey, man – are you here about the job?" The voice came from his left, its tone hopeful.

Arthur turned towards the source, smiling pleasantly at the good looking bloke who had addressed him. "I-"

"Is it just you?" he interrupted. "They send they'd send over a selection for Viv to choose from over an hour ago. She wanted to advertise in the paper and on the internet, but there's no time, and I thought I'd do the right thing and contact the job centre. I don't think I'll bother again though! No offence to you of course. I mean I'm sure you're very good, but one person does not constitute 'a selection'!"

He stopped and gave him a head to toe and nodded approvingly.

"Well come on then – looks as though you've got the job by default!" She beckoned Arthur inside, not waiting for him to reply. "What's your name?"

"Lance."

"I'm Gwaine, I'm the head barman," he said over her shoulder. "Have you much bar experience, Lance?"

Arthur had absolutely no idea so decided to assume the negative. "Er – not really, but I'm a fast learner." He followed him into the lobby of the theatre, his mind whirring. How had this happened? He'd come to suss out if this place had any relevance to his life after finding the postcard, and now he'd landed a job! Gwaine certainly didn't seem to recognise him, so that was an answer in itself as he clearly spent a lot of time here. "Have you seen me around here before?"

"No – I'm sure I'd remember a face like yours," he replied, pausing on his downward descent of the stairs to peer back over his shoulder at him with a wink. Arthur forced himself to smile back at him. "With looks like yours, I'd expect you to be on the stage rather than under it." He laughed at himself and turned his attention back to his path downwards, bringing them out into a very welcoming bar area, with candlelit wooden tables and a wooden floor.

"I've always liked this bar," Arthur bluffed, deciding that as he'd just asked Gwaine if he'd seen him here then it would sound odd if he acted like he'd never been before. "Er, thank you for the opportunity."

Gwaine leant back against the bar and looked him up and down again. "Yes, well – you certainly seem brighter than the man you're replacing – but this is only a trial. Viv has three rules: the customer is always right, no giving away free stuff and no asking actors for autographs."

Arthur nodded. "So, I can start now?"

Gwaine nodded and patted him on the back. "Yes. I'll run you through the ropes. We open in half an hour – welcome to the team."

-0-

Lance woke up with a crick in his neck and his face pressed into something warm and solid. _Percy_. Whilst it wasn't unpleasant, it wasn't a place he particularly wanted to be, so he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Percy was slumped against the back of his sofa, thankfully still clothed, drooling out the side of his mouth.

The floor was scattered with empty beer cans, which would explain the pounding in Lance's head. "Oh God," he muttered to himself and stumbled in the direction of the loo to relieve himself before finding his way to the kitchen to down a pint of water.

When he shuffled back into the living area, Percy was awake and groaning. "What on earth possessed me to drink so much?" he complained, as though he hadn't been the one to suggest they stop at Tesco Express on the way back from the bar and buy a party sized pack of beer. "Oh hell, Lance – I got fired!" He dropped his head back against the sofa again and covered his eyes with his forearm.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Lance said, feeling guilty about the not-paying-for-his-drink thing, which had contributed towards the sacking, as had his entire presence at the bar, but he didn't want to shoulder all of the blame so he didn't remind Percy about that part. "I suppose it's the Job Centre for you today?"

"Queuing with the great unwashed, just what I wanted to do today," Percy flapped out his arm that had been covering his eyes and wobbled to his feet. "Sorry, mate – I was going to help you with the van thing. Later, yeah?"

"No worries." Lance looked out of the window and estimated the time to be about noon. "I'll make us some toast shall I?"

Percy's face lit up at the mention of food. "And coffee?"

"And coffee," Lance agreed. "Can I borrow your phone after – I just want to call Gwen, let her know I'm staying here for a while."

Percy shrugged and put his hand in his jeans pocket. "Fuck," he said. "It's not there." He began to lift the sofa cushions to look underneath.

Lance went to help him.

Neither man noticed the tiny flashing red light on Percy's phone where it had fallen under the shoe rack by the door as they gave up the search in favour of feeding their rumbling stomachs.

-0-

Merlin tried to call Gwen four times after he'd left Lance at the theatre, each time it went straight to answerphone. By the time the evening rolled around, he'd given up and replaced the desire to get hold of Gwen with worry about where Lance had got to. He'd promised Merlin he'd call.

Merlin tried to get on with his work. The commission was waiting for him, almost done – he just had to do the engraving. His engraving was the reason his work was so popular. This customer had ordered wedding rings with intricate Celtic knot work engraved over the surface. If he was to engrave that by hand it could take weeks; but Merlin didn't do it by hand, he used magic. He would close his eyes and visualise how he wanted something to look, see the pattern in his mind's eye, and his magic would take the image from his mind and imprint it onto the jewellery. No two pieces were ever the same.

He had the same ability with images to paper as well, but for some reason, that held less appeal as a career option – photography had that market covered. It was the idea that someone would wear his jewellery and carry around a tiny piece of magic with them that made him tick.

Merlin glanced at the piece of paper in the right hand corner of the desk where a thought-image of Lance rested, fresh from Merlin's head that afternoon. He traced the curve of his lip with his thumb before pulling back guiltily and shoving the picture into a drawer. "Your best friend's boyfriend, Merlin," he scolded himself. "Keep your hands off."

-0-

Arthur almost got lost on the way to back to Merlin's. For London, the area he lived in was quiet and mostly non-residential, and after a while, Arthur's confused brain wanted to give up, until he saw the sign for Godwyn's Café and he knew he was only around the corner from his destination. The café had long since closed, and it was getting late. Arthur's paranoia kicked in when he thought he heard footsteps behind him and half ran the rest of the way to the old warehouse.

When Merlin answered the door before Arthur had chance to turn his key his heart skipped a beat; how was it possible that someone could look that tired and dishevelled yet so utterly delicious at the same time?

"So you decided to come back then?" he huffed as Arthur offered a tentative smile in Merlin's direction. He didn't know what to do, how to act. He was attracted to Merlin – _really_ attracted, but apparently he was also very much in love with a girl named Gwen who he couldn't remember and couldn't even imagine wanting to kiss as much as he wanted to kiss Merlin right now. He could barely stand the thought of kissing anyone _other _than Merlin. At Merlin's annoyance Arthur immediately wanted to make him smile again.

"Missed me, did you?" he flirted, butterflies in his stomach taking flight as Merlin flushed. "Um - I'm sorry I didn't call – I got a job and I didn't want to risk it by making personal calls on their phone in my break."

"A job? Oh – well – congratulations." Merlin stood back from the door to let Arthur pass. "Doing what?"

"Working in the bar at the theatre. There was one going, and I figured that maybe if I go there a lot something might come back to me." He shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the bed and turned to smile at Merlin, loving the way the blue eyes followed him hungrily. Merlin wanted him too; Arthur was certain of it. He wouldn't have kissed him the way he had last night if he didn't. "Besides, I'm not really up for trawling the country investigating ley lines until I get my memory back – I don't even know anything about them at the moment!"

"Right, good for you, Lance," Merlin said. For a moment he seemed mesmerised as he looked at Arthur before he seemed to collect himself to say, "I wasn't sure if you were coming back, I mean, you said you would but I didn't know so I didn't save you any dinner, but I did go to the shop and get some bread and stuff."

"I'm not hungry, all the staff on double shifts get fed," Arthur said and before he could change his mind, took a step closer to Merlin. "Would it be alright if I stayed with you for a few days longer?" Realistically he knew he'd survive if Merlin said no, he could take the keys to the van, stick a pin in the map and drive. He was sure if he got behind the wheel and turned the ignition that the ability to drive would come back to him. He remembered how to walk, talk and make cups of tea didn't he? If he could drive, it would come back.

The truth was, he'd known Merlin just over twenty-four hours and he wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. He wanted Merlin to say that he could stay. Maybe then they could spend more time together and get to know one another. Being here with Merlin felt right.

Merlin blinked and broke eye contact. "Of course you can," he said, turning away and heading over to the kitchen. "I promised Gwen I'd make sure you were alright. I keep my promises."

Arthur's heart sank. It was the affirmative he'd wanted, but not for his sake, for _Gwen's_. "Thanks," he said and followed Merlin to the kitchen area and watched him fill the kettle and set it to boil. "I'll take the makeshift bed; I don't want to see you out of your own bed again." He'd rather be in it with him, but Arthur kept that thought to himself.

"No – I wouldn't dream of it – I'm fine on the other bed," Merlin caught his eye again and smiled at him. "Tea?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'd rather have a beer and sit on the roof again."

Merlin flipped off the kettle and went to the fridge. "Sounds like a plan," he said as he snagged two bottles and handed them to Arthur before taking two for himself. As Arthur led the way to the roof stairs Merlin asked, "Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yes, just the lunchtime shift until four."

"How about I meet you from work and we go to the cinema?"

That sounded like a date to Arthur. "That'd be good – what's on? Not that I'll have heard of them or remember if I have."

"Let's say we'll see the first film to start after we arrive and take pot luck."

Arthur pushed open the door to the roof and stepped out into the orange moonlight of the roof. "As long as it's not horror," he said. "I don't like horror – wait – _I don't like horror_! How can I know that?"

Merlin flopped down on the bean bag and patted it for Arthur to join him. "Maybe it's just coming back to you slowly?"

"Maybe," Arthur said, feeling oddly sad. He liked this world where Merlin was the only person he knew.

"Either way, you're welcome to stay until Gwen gets back."

Arthur tried to keep the disappointment off his face.

-0-

They fell asleep on the rooftop; Merlin's efforts to keep physical space between himself and Lance failing miserably as they'd both settled themselves down onto the huge beanbag and talked into the small hours. Neither one of them mentioned Gwen again; the sad look on Lance's face the last time he mentioned her almost breaking Merlin's heart.

Could he be remembering now? He'd had that one moment of certainty about the horror movies; what if his memories of Gwen were coming back? That was a _good_ thing, because then perhaps Lance would stop looking at Merlin as though he wanted nothing more than to curl a hand around the back of his neck and draw their lips together. If Lance was remembering Gwen and everything else that his mind had temporarily cheated him of, then he'd be wanting to see her, take comfort in in her, his _girlfriend_.

Of course he looked sad.

So now, as Merlin woke up cuddled into Lance's side, he could only allow himself a moment of unadulterated enjoyment at the warmth beneath his cheek and his palm before he forced himself stumble to his feet. He immediately shivered. As balmy as the summer nights could be, this was still London and it was bloody cold at 4am!

He reached down and tapped Lance on the shoulder. "Lance – wake up!"

Lance groaned and stretched, his t-shirt riding up and affording Merlin a glimpse of his lightly tanned stomach and the blond hair that trailed- Merlin swiftly walked to the edge of the roof and looked down at the street below.

Merlin heard Lance sitting up before he said, "What time is it?"

"Early," Merlin said. "We should go inside and get some more sleep."

Lance mumbled his agreement and the two of them trailed back down stairs. Lance disappeared into the loo and Merlin checked his phone, abandoned on his workbench while he waited his turn. He had three missed calls from Gwen and a voicemail.

'Merlin, it's me – just wondering how Lance is? I'm worried about this stranger th-' and the message descended into static and cut off. Merlin switched it off angrily and resisted the temptation to hurl it at the wall. He didn't want to think about Gwen, because that sent him hurtling back into the real world, and he liked this place – albeit temporary – where Lance relied upon him and he could pretend that these feelings he had meant something more than a crush on someone he couldn't have.

Lance came out of the bathroom wearing just his boxers, his other clothing slung over his arm as he almost sleepwalked to the bed and crawled into it. Merlin forced his eyes away and went to take his turn in the loo.

When he came out, Lance was softly snoring.

-0-

"What's th' noise?" Lance mumbled to himself as he woke up on Percy's sofa again. This time, thankfully, Percy was tucked up in his own bed. There was an irritating beeping noise coming from somewhere in the room, one that had permeated his sleep and eventually forced him to open his weary eyes and talk to the ceiling.

He threw back the old sleeping bag he'd been sleeping between and followed his ears over to the shoe rack near the door, where he retrieved Percy's phone, beeping protest that it's battery was about to die. It was a miracle that the stupid thing managed to make that noise as it had given up all efforts at producing a ring tone about three of Lance's visits ago and Percy had yet to make any attempt at getting a new phone or repairing this one.

Lance plugged it into the ever present charger next to the television and eyed the phone. It was flashing red, and even he, technophobe that he was, knew that on Percy's phone this meant a voicemail.

He wasn't so rude that he would listen to someone else's voicemail, but he wasn't averse to 'encouraging' Percy to get up and listen to it himself. He turned on the TV, put the kettle on and banged around making toast. It took Percy approximately seven minutes to emerge from his bedroom.

"Morning," Lance greeted, following it with, "I found your phone – you've got voicemail."

"Huh," Percy grumbled and picked up the phone, tapping in a number and holding it to his ear. One eyebrow shot upwards. "It's someone for you. Morgana LeFay..? She says she wants to meet to talk to you about her brother and a jacket. Here – you have a listen."

Lance took the phone off his friend, and grabbed a pen out of the pot on the side. He shot Percy an apologetic look for waking him up. "Coffee?"

-0-

Arthur couldn't wait to finish work. Merlin met him on the steps outside, and Arthur had to physically restrain himself from running to greet him. He might not have his memories, but he was certain that wouldn't be cool thing to do.

"I thought we could get something to eat before the movie," Merlin suggested, and before Arthur could protest that he didn't have any money yet Merlin added, "You can pay me back when you get your wages."

They went for pizza, Merlin telling Arthur about a new commission he'd just accepted, Arthur telling Merlin about the blonde woman who had sat in the corner of the bar for three hours staring at him intently, and only ordering one drink for the whole time.

"Was she attractive?" Merlin asked distractedly, staring out of the window at the early evening traffic.

Arthur's brows furrowed at the question. "She was alright I suppose, if you like the type. Why do you ask?"

Merlin turned his intense blue eyes on Arthur and swallowed. "I just thought that it sounds as though she liked you if she was staring at you all afternoon."

Was Merlin _jealous_? Arthur grinned, his heart pounding noisily in his ears at the notion. He'd actually been slightly freaked out by the unrelenting gaze of the woman, and having asked Gwaine if she was a regular who perhaps did that to all the staff and ascertaining that he hadn't seen her before he'd tried to ignore her scrutiny as best he could. To Merlin he pretended to think about what he'd said and replied, "I'm not interested in her." _I'm interested in you_.

Merlin looked away and said, "Let's get going. Most of the early evening films start around now."

Arthur watched as Merlin asked for the bill and paid. This was definitely a _date_.

-0-

Lance had never been to the Savoy before. He wasn't sure he wanted to now. This Morgana LeFay person had to have some serious money if this was her choice of venue!

The woman had been very precise; simply – 'meet me at the Savoy this afternoon at 4pm'. Lance had felt as though saying no was not an option.

He only had the clothes he stood up in as the rest of his stuff was in his missing van, and hand washing his jeans in Percy's bathroom sink and borrowing one of his t-shirts – did not make him feel anywhere near smart enough to cross the threshold; however, he had no choice if he wanted to get his van back.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" asked an older man in a red and gold button-up coat the instant Lance's toe touched the expensive carpet in the lobby.

"I'm here to meet someone," Lance said, feeling instantly out of place. "Morgana LeFay?"

The man dragged his eyes over Lance from the toes of his new boots up to the top of his dark curly hair before saying, "Ah, yes, Miss LeFay. Come this way please, _sir_." He turned and walked towards an ornate doorway, opening the double doors as though announcing the entrance of Cinderella to the ball. Lance felt more like one of the ugly sisters as he obligingly followed.

They came out in a relaxing seating area, classical music playing subtly in the background and the low murmur of sophisticated chatter washing over his ears.

"Miss LeFay is sitting by the window, sir," he said snootily, and gestured towards and dark haired – _and bloody gorgeous_– woman sitting in a huge overstuffed armchair reading a magazine.

"Thanks," Lance said, mesmerised by the woman he had come to meet as he made his way towards her. When she looked up at him, and gave him the once over as his guide just had, his attraction died. Gwen would never look at anyone like that.

"Lance, I presume?" she asked, lowering the magazine and leaning forward to drop it onto the table. Lance nodded and she continued, "Morgana LeFay." She held out her hand for Lance to shake, which he did, before she nodded towards the chair beside hers.

Lance sat down and forced a smile. "So you think we can help each other?"

"I certainly hope so."

"So, this brother of yours-" Morgana nodded encouragingly. "What does he have to do with me?"

"The proprietor of a shop named 'World's End' gave me your number as someone who is looking for a leather jacket with a spiral on the back. This is the very same jacket that my brother took possession of two days before he disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Disappeared with Lance's van! He pursed his lips to refrain from making the accusation.

Morgana bristled. "Yes, well, his wife informs me that he's licking his wounds following an argument with her, which I have no trouble believing – why he married that vacuous-" She stopped and shook her head. "What I mean is, Arthur has gone AWOL and whilst his wife is not concerned about his whereabouts, I most certainly am. It's not like him to disappear and not tell anybody where he's going."

She lifted her blue-green eyes to him then, and Lance could see the genuine concern, and his opinion shifted again. She clearly cared about her brother; perhaps she wasn't as cold as he'd first thought.

"How long has he been missing for?" Lance's compassion came to the fore, though he thought he knew the answer based on how long his van had been gone for.

"Since Tuesday morning," she replied. "His wife tells me they had an argument over breakfast, she thought he'd left for work – but we now know he never showed up – and he hasn't been seen since."

"Have you contacted the Police?"

"Yes, but they said he had to be missing for forty-eight hours before they can take a report that he _is _missing, no matter who his father was, and when I went back after the forty-eight hours they said they that I couldn't file him as missing as I am not his next of kin, and that they have every reason to believe he's just taking some time out after a domestic." She pinned Lance with an intense stare. "That's not Arthur. He wouldn't just disappear without telling me; he's not that kind of person."

"Hmm," Lance managed. "Let's start from the beginning shall we? Maybe we _can_ help each other." He wasn't convinced that this Arthur bloke was as goody-two-shoes as his sister was trying to make out, but he didn't want to jump straight in there and suggest that the man had stolen his van and gone off on a jaunt around the country with all of his stuff!

Fifteen minutes later, if it hadn't been _his_ van and _his stuff _that Arthur Pendragon had stolen, Lance might have been cheering the poor bloke on. He'd obviously just flipped out from the sheer dullness that was his life and gone off on one! Probably just an opportunistic crime upon finding Lance's van keys in the jacket pocket. Though how he'd found the van that the key fitted was anyone's guess.

Casting his mind back to the old TV dramas he'd used to watch with his Mum when he was a teenager he said, "I think I'll need to see his room…you know…where he lives; it might help us to work out where he's gone."

Lance was surprised when Morgana agreed so readily, saying, "Sophia's taken herself off to the spa for a few days so we can go and snoop to our heart's content." Lance couldn't have imagined the flash of satisfaction that crossed her features before she sobered again, clearly remembering why they were there. "Let's just have a cup of tea first, hmm?"

Lance _was_rather parched.

-0-

Merlin wasn't totally sure what film they had just watched. All he had been aware of was the warmth of Lance's arm as it rested next to his, and the easy rhythm of his breathing – and the desire to reach out and thread his fingers through his.

When he turned on his phone when they left the theatre to find another message from Gwen his bubble burst and the butterflies in his stomach turned to lead.

They'd decided before the film that they would walk home along the canal, but now Merlin couldn't face that. Walking alongside the water in the moonlight was something that couples did; it was for people in love. It wasn't for stupid morons who couldn't stop thinking about their best friend's boyfriend without any clothes on.

"I'm tired," he announced sombrely, causing Lance's head to snap up from where he was fiddling with the zip on his jacket. "Let's get a cab home." Lance's face fell. Merlin ignored the kick in his lower belly at his pout and waved a hand at a passing cab. The tenner he'd have to spend on the fare was worth it for his friendship with Gwen.

They made the journey in silence, and when they got back to Merlin's place he said, "I'm hitting the sack straight away." He wasn't tired at all, but he didn't think he was in the humour for another evening sitting on the roof with Lance; not with the way the bloke was making him feel.

"Okay," Lance said. "I'll have an early night too then." He smiled tightly at Merlin and headed for the bathroom. When the door closed behind him Merlin slumped into the armchair and dropped his head to his hands.

-0-

Arthur was glad for his double shift the following day. He got up when Merlin awoke, and they went to the café together for breakfast, chatting impersonally about nothing in particular. Merlin had a busy day ahead of him with an upcoming wedding fayre he was holding a stall at, and Arthur didn't want to be in the way.

Once they were done with their food he headed towards the theatre, intending to have a wander around the area before his shift started, thinking that perhaps the reason he had the postcard of the place in his pocket was because he'd stayed nearby in his van and he'd picked it up in a shop or something.

Nothing was familiar, one street looked the same as the next to him, and after an hour he dejectedly made his way to work.

She was there again, watching him. Arthur's shift finished at ten, and as he made his preparations to leave – which was basically just saying goodnight to Gwaine – he noticed she had moved, as though she was waiting for him to join her for them to leave together.

There was no other choice other than to walk past her if he wanted to leave.

"Would you like to join me for a drink somewhere else?" she invited smoothly when he reached his only exit, her blue eyes fixed on him coolly. "I've been watching you work; I think you deserve a treat. My name is Morgause." She held out a hand to him. Arthur stared at it but something instinctively told him not to take it.

"No, thank you," Arthur declined. "I'm exhausted. I just want to go home and sleep." Not that he actually had a home at the moment. He couldn't call that horrible van his home and Merlin had made it clear that he was fed up of him hanging around if the chill in the air last night and this morning was anything to go by. Still, right now, Merlin's place was the only home he knew, and that was where he was headed. Hopefully Merlin would have lightened up by now; Arthur couldn't understand why he had changed so much last night. Before the film they'd almost fitted together like they belonged – afterwards Merlin had pulled back and Arthur's loneliness at not knowing who he really was and where he really belonged had hit him smack between the eyes.

"No, I insist," said Morgause in a voice that brooked no argument. A perfectly manicured hand clamped around Arthur's wrist. "I don't take no for an answer."

Fuck. She might be gorgeous but she was scary as hell. "What did you have in mind?" Arthur asked pleasantly, hoping that she would be lulled into a false sense of security whilst he planned his escape. His sixth sense was going haywire, more so than it had when he'd seen her watching him before. He didn't know what she wanted, but it wasn't a drink. Unless she _knew _him? She wasn't acting as though they were familiar with each other

"Now, now," she chided, her eyes never leaving Arthur's face. "You have something I want, and I intend to collect."

Arthur's eyes widened. He had to assume that this routine worked on most guys; but that wasn't him, such a blatant come on was a huge turn off – he didn't need to remember his own name to realise that!

He yanked his arm back and the gesture didn't rile her, but caused him to stumble back and almost lose his footing. He glanced back up at her, the light in her eyes sending a sudden jolt of fear through him, and for the first time, he actually felt scared. She wanted something from him, but it wasn't a night in his bed; this woman was a person to be afraid of.

It had to have been the adrenaline – fight or flight – that kicked in that made him say, "Give me a minute to grab my jacket from the staff room," he prevaricated calmly with a tight smile forming on his lips. "Then I am all yours."

She hesitated before nodding, "Very well."

"It's just upstairs," Arthur said. "Wait for me here?" With the theatre being on several levels, upstairs could mean anywhere, although the staff room was just one floor up behind the ticket desk. He was backing away as he spoke, not waiting to see if she agreed with that, and taking the stairs two by two he was in the tiny room, grabbing his jacket off the hook in the corner, and shrugging it on before he'd had chance to formulate his next step. He didn't know what this woman wanted, but he did know that he didn't want to give it to her!

He inched the door open and peered through – she didn't appear to have followed him – so he stepped through and made his way to the glass fronted main entrance rather than to the side staff entrance – it was nearer – and he joined the back of a small group of patrons as they left before making haste down the stairs and off in the direction of the tube station.

Arthur made it two steps before that cold voice sounded behind him, "Lancelot!" and as he wondered how she'd known that was his name, he felt a hand on his elbow as she span him around to face her. Damn, but the woman was fast. "Now, that wasn't very nice, was it?"

Arthur's heart rate accelerated. "I-" he began, letting her think she was receiving a response, before abruptly turning and breaking into a run. He wasn't imagining this – his 'admirer' was no normal woman. Normal people's eyes did not glow gold – unless that was something else he had forgotten when he'd hit his head the other day?

He found himself in a back street, running as fast as his legs could move him, and when she'd appeared in front of him again, somewhere she couldn't possibly have made it to by natural means, causing him to take the next right and come flying out onto the main road, unable to stop himself in time to avoid running into the road and into the path of an oncoming car.

-0-

"This is a nice place," Lance said to Morgana and in reply he received a muffled giggle. "It's a bloomin' _fantastic_ place." He took a long drag on the spliff they were sharing and reached back to hand it to Morgana where she lay behind him, both of them head to head on the huge cream sofa that was the centrepiece of one of the many huge rooms in Arthur Pendragon's home, a place so devoid of personality that if Lance had come here for any reason other than the one he had, he would have drawn the conclusion that the mysterious Arthur and the much hated Sophia were a Stepford couple. Did real people really live within so much cream blandness?

Morgana had brought him here yesterday evening, leaving him to explore, making him promise not to make a mess as she and someone called Leon were going to call around to everyone Arthur knew; she'd said Lance could stay the night and that she'd return the following day.

Now here they were. It had been late afternoon when she'd arrived, her eyes red rimmed as she'd explained that no one they'd spoken to had seen or heard from her brother in ages, never mind the last few days. Lance had been tempted to hug her, instead he'd flung himself down onto this sofa and said, "We need a smoke," and had retrieved a small packet from his jeans pocket. Thank heaven for small mercies, or in this case, for Percy. Percy had prepared these for him before he'd gone to meet Morgana the day before, insisting that Lance might need them; Percy was wiser than he looked. Lance had only enjoyed one the night before on his own. Suddenly he had the urge for another.

Lance hadn't expected the prim and proper looking Morgana to take one sniff when he lit up and say, "You'd better be sharing that," before flopping down next to him with a dejected sigh and adding sadly, "Where is he?"

Which was how they came to be lying like they were, their shoes an untidy pile on the beige carpet, their feet propped on the armrests and their heads resting on cushions in the middle as they smoked.

The shrill ringing of the phone sounded through the clean perfection of the house, causing Morgana's giggles to return. Lance handed the spliff to Morgana, rolled off the sofa, and crawled over to the nest of tables near the door where a cordless phone rested in its charger. He picked it up and said, "Hullo?" There was no one there. Lance snorted, there was no one there and that was _hilarious_. "Helloooooooooo!" he said and chuckled. He heard the firm sound of a click at the other end and wasn't that the funniest thing ever? He attempted to put the phone back in the charger, shrugging when it fell out and onto the table and knee-walked back to the sofa where he resumed his previous position and took the spliff out of Morgana's outstretched hand.

"You know what's a funny word?" she asked between giggles. "Banana. Ba-na-na!" The giggles turned into a belly laugh and they both forgot about the phone call.

-0-


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the comments.**

**-0-**

Arthur glared at the yellow pay phone that had been wheeled into his cubicle by a smiley faced nurse as though it was to blame for Arthur ringing his wife and a strange, obviously stoned, man answering. Sophia obviously wasn't worrying about where he had been these last few days! Arthur had told her he wanted a divorce, and he really did – _really_– but a small part of him had hoped that she might have cared enough to try to fight for him, or to care when he disappeared for several days!

The doctor had told him that they wouldn't release him from hospital without someone coming to collect him because he had hit his head. Miraculously, after his tumble in front of that car, a bump on the head was his only injury as the car had only just been pulling away from the curb and wasn't going very fast.

At least he had his identity back. The name Lance had never suited him. He was Arthur Pendragon. He'd been given a shot at being someone else for a few days and although he'd never felt right in the guise of Lancelot DuLac, he'd been free of the shackles of his miserable life – unhappy marriage, a job he hated, suppressed sexuality.

It wasn't funny how he'd instinctively _known_ that he preferred men when his old life had been locked away in his mind. With no expectations upon his shoulders he had been able to be himself – the real person he could've been – and it had been fantastic.

He preferred men.

He preferred _Merlin_.

Reaching over to the spiral jacket that was hanging over the back of the chair next to the bed he dug into the pocket and produced the business card with Merlin's number on it. What was he going to tell him? He wasn't Lancelot! That van wasn't his. He'd been _following _Lance and had ended up living in Merlin's flat – and Merlin had taken him in, Arthur Pendragon, a total stranger.

He hovered his fingers over the keypad, suddenly uncertain – Merlin was attracted to him, Arthur was more than certain of it, but last night he'd changed and had withdrawn into himself following what had been for Arthur a perfect date; Merlin had obviously not felt the same.

He needed Merlin now though – _someone _had to come and collect him from the hospital. Morgana would come…but Arthur couldn't face her at the moment. He just wanted Merlin.

-0-

Merlin was babbling he knew it. Sitting in the back of a taxi with Lance so close, his nerves got the better of him – and when had that happened? It seemed that the more time he spent with this man in his life, the more pathetic he became. He'd barely gotten any work done today, his mind going over everything that had happened since Lance had literally fallen at his feet a few days ago.

Something didn't add up, yet for all of his magical ability, Merlin had no idea what. "…hitting yourself on the head twice in a week – are you usually this accident prone? No – scratch that – you wouldn't know would you when you've lost your memory." Instinctively he reached out and closed his hand over Lance's. "I nearly had a heart attack when you said you were at the hospital, I had to get a cab because my hands were shaking too much to drive."

"Merlin – there's something I need to tell you," Lance started, but Merlin wasn't really listening as the taxi pulled up at his building. He released Lance's hand and thrust a twenty at the cabbie before opening the door.

"What were you doing, that you would walk in front of a car anyway?" Merlin asked as they climbed the outside stairs.

"That woman who was eyeing me up-"

Merlin's chest tightened at the mention of Lance's admirer, and a moment later he noticed that the door was open. "Shit – tell me I locked the door!" he exclaimed and Lance's voice died away as he came to stand at Merlin's side.

Together the two of them stared at the door as though it was an animate object and it might swing wide open for them of its own accord.

"I know I locked it," Merlin said, and he had – he had a key – but he always used his magic to do it automatically as he left the building, and tonight had been no different.

He pushed the door with the heel of his palm and it creaked open ominously. Merlin stepped inside, Lance close behind him.

"Fuck," he said, feeling sick as he took in the state of his home. Everything he owned had been torn upside down – all of his clothes, CDs, DVDs, books – _everything_– was scattered across the floor. "Oh God, my jewellery!" He ran, skipping over items strewn on the floor to his work bench. Everything was up-ended and scattered across the surface – but even though this was all valuable gold and other metals – it was dumped in a mess, but they hadn't taken it.

Merlin felt it then, a tingle of magic. Someone had opened his safe with magic – that was the only way to open it. Someone who had scanned all of his possessions and not found what they were looking for. He was torn between relief and disgust.

"Oh my God," Lance said from behind him and Merlin turned to face him. "Merlin-"

"I don't think they've taken anything, which makes no sense whatsoever." The gold was the most valuable possession he owned, and that belonged to his business as an asset.

"This is my fault," Lance said, raking a hand through his hair and offering Merlin an. "It has to be _her_. I knew that there was more to it than trying to get into my pants-"

"What-?" Merlin stared incredulously at the man who had been a complete stranger to him less than a week earlier. "Who do you mean – 'she'?"

"That woman I told you about, the one who kept staring at me. She followed me tonight – that's how I ended up in the path of a car. She said I had something she wanted."

"Do you have any idea what? Are you in trouble, Lance?" Merlin took a step closer, a combination of anger and worry spurring him on. "Oh God, have you even lost your memory at all – have you been playing me for somewhere to hide from whatever it is?" All Merlin could think in that moment as 'please say no' – because even though Lance wasn't his to worry about, that didn't mean that he wouldn't.

"No – I'm not – look, Merlin – I'll leave. I'll help you tidy up this mess and then I'll go; I'll sleep in the van or-" His face was ashen, and Merlin didn't miss the way his voice cracked as he backed towards the door.

"No – please – stay," Merlin said gently, he reached out and took his hand. "I'll lock the door and we'll put something up against it; we'll be safe here tonight. There's no way I'm letting you go out there when some crazy woman is after you." Some crazy _magical_ woman.

Merlin found he was in a dilemma now. He could wave a hand and the room would return to its former state, everything slotting into place easily; but that would give away his magic to his guest, and even though he still felt as though he could trust Lance he was reluctant. It usually took him years to let people in on the secret.

"If you're sure?" Lance stepped closer, staring right into Merlin's eyes, his gaze flicking briefly to Merlin's lips before returning to stare into the depths of his soul. "Merlin-"

Merlin couldn't say who made the first move, all he knew is that their lips had met, and that the world was spinning as he was pressed forcefully into the wall and a pair of smooth lips were parting his, and a hot tongue was entwining with his own – and _God_, he'd never felt so turned on, never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this man in this moment.

Somehow they stumbled away from the wall, both of them leading the other towards the bed, clothing being discarded as they went; t-shirts hitting the floor, shoes toed to one side until Lance was backed against the bed with nowhere to escape to.

Merlin looked at Lance through his lashes, any thoughts that this shouldn't happen firmly blocked away in the back of his head and replaced with an overwhelming feeling of _rightness _at what was about to happen.

Two pairs of blue eyes clashed and time seemed to come to a crashing halt.

Merlin slowly lifted a hand and ran his thumb over soft pouting lips. A warm pink tongue snuck out and tasted the tip. Merlin groaned and replaced his thumb with his mouth.

-0-

Arthur let instinct rule him. He'd never done this before with another man. Placing his hands on Merlin's hips he turned them both until it was Merlin with his back to the bed, pushing him down onto it and before Merlin could move Arthur's shaking fingers were on the buttons of Merlin's jeans, popping the top one and tugging, pulling them swiftly over long pale thighs and chucking them to one side. He followed with Merlin's boxers, staring greedily as his thick erect cock sprang free.

Something primal stirred inside Arthur. _God_ but he wanted to taste Merlin; so he did, he bent his head and tentatively tasted the drop of precome on the tip of his cock, instantly feeling bolder and swirling his tongue around the head, feeling the blood rushing to his own already painful arousal as Merlin groaned and bucked his hips into Arthur's mouth. "Yes," Merlin said. "_I want you. _"

Arthur added pressure with his tongue and suppressed the urge to smile around Merlin's cock as he Merlin's whimpers increased in volume and a long fingered hand clamped into his hair. Arthur looked up, along the long length of Merlin's naked body, over his concave stomach, his dark pink nipples, his prominent collar bone – his eyes finding Merlin's as he stared down at Arthur with darkened eyes and laboured breathing.

Arthur thought he might die if he didn't fuck him; after tonight he might not get another chance. He ignored the stabbing in his heart as that thought crossed his mind and releasing Merlin's cock he said, "Back up."

Merlin did as he was bid, into the middle of the bed. He watched as Arthur followed, straddling him, resting his palms on Merlin's ribs, both thumbs sneaking outwards to rub erect nipples, eliciting a breathy gasp from Merlin.

"Need you now," Merlin said, bucking his hips up under Arthur, their cocks rubbing together teasingly. "Lube's in the drawer."

Arthur scooted over to the bedside drawer and had the tube and a condom in his hand before he even realised he'd moved, returning to part Merlin's thighs. He dropped the condom beside him on the bed and popped the lid on the tube, coating his fingers.

Merlin squirmed when Arthur's finger traced his entrance, laughing and muttering, "'S cold," and opening his thighs wider. "Mmm, 's good too."

Arthur slipped his finger inside, not sure how he knew that this was what he should do, but _knowing_ that it was felt good, and Merlin's reaction was one of joy not pain, so Arthur pushed further. With his second hand he ran the pad of his thumb over the tip of Merlin's cock. He wanted to make Merlin scream, wanted to make him _his_.

"More," Merlin begged. "I can take it."

Arthur added another finger, scissored and curled. "Like this?"

"God, _yes._" Merlin put his hands under his knees and lifted his legs. "Do it."

Arthur hesitated, wanting nothing more than to plunge his cock into Merlin and force an orgasm from him that was so mind blowing that Merlin would never want anyone else. He just didn't want to hurt him.

"_Do it_," Merlin said again. "I want you." His legs wrapped around Arthur and that was his tipping point. His fingers were out, the condom was on and Merlin was rearranging himself onto his knees, resting on his elbows and offering Arthur his arse. Arthur nearly came from the sight of him.

Following his instincts Arthur clamped his shaking hands in a vice like grip on Merlin's hips and pushed slowly into him, and once there, he leant forward and placed a kiss on Merlin's spine and whispered, "Is this okay?"

"It's bloody fantastic," Merlin replied. "Now, fuck me, I won't break."

Arthur moved, and it was the most amazing feeling; Merlin's scent, being inside him, the feel of his skin beneath his fingers, the pounding in his chest… He wasn't going to last long. He reached underneath and closed his palm around Merlin's erection and tried to stroke him in time with his own movements. He hoped it was good for Merlin, "Do you like that?" he managed and received a groan in response. Arthur sped up his pace, determined that he wouldn't come before Merlin did, but he was so so close. A euphoric feeling was stealing its way through his bloodstream, taking over everything; he was going to come, he was going to come, he was going to – When it happened, Arthur's vision blurred and he exploded into Merlin with the fiercest orgasm he'd ever had. How could he have lived so long without knowing this feeling?

"Merlin, Merlin – God," he heart himself mumbling, his hand still around Merlin's cock. He hadn't succeeding in getting Merlin to come first, which was a disappointment. Arthur gently pulled out and fell onto his back, awed. "Come here," he said to Merlin, watching him through narrowed eyes as he straddled Arthur's hips. Without breaking eye contact, Arthur wrapped his hand around Merlin's cock and stroked. He used his other hand to tease Merlin's balls, knowing that was something he'd like if positions were reversed.

Merlin tipped his head back, closing his eyes, and with a low groan, came all over Arthur's chest. As his orgasm subsided, he leant forward and kissed Arthur, one hand brushing sweaty tendrils of hair off his face. "Wow," he said.

-0-

As they curled together and allowed sleep to find them, Merlin knew he was utterly screwed. Best friend's boyfriend or not, Merlin wasn't letting this one go. He'd never felt like this before…so _right_.

He could only hope that when Lance's memories returned, the newer ones he'd created with Merlin would win.

-0-

Arthur propped himself up on his elbow and stared at Merlin as he slept. He'd just fucked a guy; he'd just fucked _Merlin_. He'd never known anything like it; he felt wonderfully sore in the oddest of places, but Merlin had been perfect. He'd always known he preferred men, but when your father is Uther Pendragon – Arthur hadn't had a chance to explore anything before he'd been marching down the aisle with Sophia on his arm. Uther had been so pleased and so proud that Arthur was marrying the daughter of his oldest friend, and with him being so ill...

He'd always done everything to please his father and never to please himself; something that Morgana berated him for frequently and to which he normally replied that he was happy as he was.

A few days in the company of a skinny young man named Merlin Emrys and Arthur's life had changed forever.

He'd been trying to tell Merlin the truth about who he was last night but _this _had happened. He wanted it to happen again, and not just once. Looking at Merlin felt like home.

As he watched Merlin stirred and his lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes and slowly focussed on Arthur. "Morning," Arthur said softly and raised a hand to brush the stray hairs out of Merlin's eyes. Merlin grinned back and Arthur couldn't help dipping his head to brush his lips over Merlin's.

It wasn't morning, well it _was_, but the time was only about 3am and the light illuminating Merlin's face came from the moonlight outside and the ever present London street lighting.

Arthur ghosted his lips along Merlin's exposed collarbone, nibbling the soft skin there, loving Merlin's boneless response and low whimpers. Arthur could get used to this; but he had to tell Merlin the truth.

"Merlin," Arthur pulled back and sat back on his haunches, taking one of Merlin's hands. "I'm not Lancelot."

Merlin's lips quirked. "I never call you that, prat" he protested, pulling Arthur's hand guiding his fingers to his mouth where there was a flash of pink tongue that wetted the tips. "It's my turn to fuck _you_." Merlin lifted his head slightly and sucked on Arthur's fingers in earnest and sparks of pure need shot straight to his cock. He'd never done that before, and the thought of doing it with _Merlin_…all thoughts of telling him who he really was vanished and were replaced by a burning compulsion to have Merlin bury himself inside him.

"Geez, Merlin-"

Merlin swirled his tongue over the underside of Arthur's fingers, and before Arthur's head caught up with his body, he had pulled his hand back, straddled Merlin and was using the same hand to stroke Merlin's already rigidly hard cock.

-0-

Lance woke up with a stiff neck from the awkward angle in which he had lay down before falling asleep. Awkwardly he sat up and saw that Morgana was curled in a small ball at the other end of the ginormous sofa, her face relaxed in slumber.

They hadn't exactly been very successful in their quest to find Arthur Pendragon and by default, Lance's van. Perhaps now would be a good time to explore the house again – there had to be something he had missed in his earlier search.

He almost didn't see the laptop in the study for a second time. He had thought it odd that a study would have no computer, but given the size of the house and the ridiculous number of rooms, he'd concluded at the time that there was probably an office tucked away with a computer in – and then of course Morgana had returned and had been side-tracked with one of Percy's joints and that had been the end of all rational thought for that evening.

The laptop was tucked out of sight behind a cushion on the large comfortable looking armchair in the corner of the room. Lance picked it up and placed it on his lap and settled back for an amateur attempt at hacking – but this turned out to be unnecessary as it didn't appear to have password protection.

A webpage was still open, and in the middle of the page was the advert from the other day, 'Desperately Seeking Lancelot'. With a frown, Lance clicked on another open tab to find it was a blog of some kind on something called _livejournal_. The journal bore the title, 'More to life than this'.

Lance scanned the page, and started to read. _'She's looking for him again. I wonder why they don't use phones like most modern couples would. Their using the personals to communicate fascinates me. Who is Lancelot? Who is Guinevere? Can that be their real names? What are they to each other? Are they real; maybe it's a code for members of the secret service to meet up and pass along information? If I've guessed that correctly will I be arrested?_

I'm going to go there tomorrow. The writer in me needs to know who they are. They're meeting at Camden Lock; I can blend in there. I just want to see them. I think they're in love. I want to see what that looks like on the faces of people who don't belong in my social sphere, in a world where people fall in love because they can and don't settle for duty. I want to see what I can never have.'

Lance sat back with a sigh and said, "Poor bastard." His heart ached for the man who had written those words. He searched the page for a user name and found it at the top of the page and under the icon of a sword in a stone – _knightarthur_. Well, at least that solved one mystery and answered the dilemma of how to find him again – if he'd left his wife as Morgana had told him he had, and if he was licking his wounds somewhere – Lance was pretty sure he'd still be checking these personal ads and returning to this blog at some point.

Lance returned to the personals page and with a few clicks had placed the following:

Desperately seeking Stranger seeking Lancelot  
>Regarding key.<br>Meet me on Saturday night.  
>Café Bar, Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square, 7.30pm.<br>Be there.

Satisfied, he snapped shut the computer and went to tell Morgana his news.

"Oh thank God," she said when he told her as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Lance was willing to bet she'd never appeared before anyone else looking that dishevelled in her life. Her hair was wild, her pupils dilated and her cheeks creased from the pattern on the cushion. She looked a lot less scary like that. "I just hope it works."

So did Lance. He missed his van. It was more than just transport; it was his home and it was all he had. He wanted it back. Morgana muttered something about coffee and cereal and headed to the kitchen; Lance flopped back on the sofa and hit the on button on the remote. The huge flat screen TV flickered to life and the newsreader was launched into a report about a stolen historical artefact.

Lance gasped and hastily paused the picture and called for Morgana. "I think we've got a bigger problem," he said, nodding at the TV.

Morgana glanced at the screen and said, "The Crystal of Neahtid allegedly resurfacing after being missing for centuries only to be immediately stolen? That's old news now, and it's probably just a hoax anyway, if the thing ever really existed."

"No – I mean _this_," he pressed rewind and paused it when a picture of a white haired woman flashed up on the screen. "I bought a crystal pendant off her on Saturday and then she dropped dead less than an hour afterwards!"

Morgana shook her head. "I don't see-"

"Look-" Lance fast-forward again, realising he perhaps wasn't being as clear as he could be. "Her _daughter_ is a suspect in the theft of the crystal! See that blonde woman there – I saw her as I left the fayre, I held open the door for her and she didn't thank me – I remember her because I can't abide rudeness!"

"She's wanted for questioning for the other woman's death. Oh - _oh_– the daughter as fencing the crystal to her?" Morgana guessed, her brows drawing together in puzzlement. "What does this have to do with Arthur?"

"According to this report she was spotted at Camden Lock on Tuesday."

Morgana shot him a confused look.

"I was supposed to meet the 'stranger' – Arthur – at Camden Lock on Tuesday. It can't be coincidence, can it?"

"What would she want with you?"

"What if the woman gave me the wrong crystal? The daughter wasn't there when I went back after my talk…"

"So _you_have got the Crystal of Neahtid?" Morgana's eyes shone in excitement and Lance had a suspicion that she had forgotten the whole point of the conversation.

"No – it was in the pocket of the jacket that Arthur has bought."

Realisation dawned. Morgana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, Arthur, what have you got yourself mixed up in?"

-0-

Merlin couldn't help a lazy smile when Lance dropped a quick kiss on his lips and said, "I need a shower." He watched as he grabbed some clothes and made his way to the bathroom before disappearing inside. Merlin sank back against his pillows and closed his eyes, the absence of the warm body against his feeding the cold guilt that now threatened to engulf him.

He'd slept with his best friend's boyfriend. That wasn't like him, he didn't do things like that, but – _but_– with Lance he hadn't been able to resist any longer. His blood and his magic sang for him and the pull had been too great. From what he could see – and feel – Lance felt the same; but was that just the Lance who didn't have his memories? What would happen when it all came back to him and he remembered how much he loved Gwen?

Oh God, had Merlin taken _advantage _of him?

Before the theory had time to develop, there was a knock at the fire escape door followed by an impatient sounding, horribly familiar voice, "Merlin? Are you there?"

Gwen. Her timing could only have been worse if she'd arrived whilst they were actually fucking.

Merlin glanced at the bathroom door and back to the door. Getting out of bed he yanked on a pair of boxers off the floor and waved a hand to unlock it and called, "Come in, it's open!"

Gwen's head peered around the door before her body followed. "Didn't wake you up did I?" she asked with a rueful smile that Merlin forced himself to return. "When I couldn't get hold of you for so long I got worried about Lance – we drove all night to get back as soon as we could after the last gig. God, Merlin, what's happened here?"

"You look well," he evaded, scanning the floor for his jeans, horribly aware that there were bound to be bruises forming on his hipbones from the almost death grip he'd been held in earlier as Lance-

"I don't know how I can look 'well', I've been worried sick about Lance! He can be a bit of a trouble magnet because he's just so _nice_." She scanned the room as though that would make Lance magically appear. "Is he here? I saw his van outside and he wasn't in it."

"Um – yeah – he's here. Look, Gwen, about that – about Lance – we – I-" Merlin's tongue seemed to double in size as he tried to tell her. He knew he'd done her wrong, but he wasn't a dishonest person, so of course he was going to tell her what had happened and face the consequences.

He had to face the fact that he might lose Gwen over this, he deserved to, but he wasn't going to give up Lance without a fight. The way he felt about that man after just a few days far outweighed how he'd felt about anyone else – ever. Waking up curled against that strong body with blond hair tickling his skin was so _perfect_. His heart knew it, and so did his magic.

There was a crash from the direction of the bathroom. "Lance?" Merlin called. "Are you alright?"

He ran to the bathroom doorway, closely followed by Gwen to find the bathroom window wide open and no sign of Lance. Merlin's heart sank – he'd probably heard him and Gwen talking and decided that he didn't want to be caught in the middle.

"Where's he gone?" Gwen asked in confusion as she stared at the open window. She flicked her worried gaze at Merlin. "Is there something I should know?"

Merlin nodded and said, "Just let me straighten up the flat and we'll take a walk to Elena's, yeah?"

If Gwen had been about to protest, her words stuck in her throat when Merlin clicked his fingers and the ransacked mess that had been ignored in the wake of what had happened next began to right itself. Gwen, one of the few who knew about Merlin's magic, watched with a mixture of agitation and fascination.

Merlin was not looking forward to this conversation.

-0-

Arthur sat in the park staring at the ducks on the lake. After climbing out of the window he'd come here, not really knowing where else to go. He wasn't even sure he knew why he'd run like that. All he knew was that someone had come to the door and that someone had turned out to be the mysterious Gwen, who had come for her Lance, only _he_wasn't Lance, he was Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin deserved better than him, a man who had married for duty and suppressed who he really was. Arthur needed to sort out this mess that was his life before he could go back and claim Merlin – before he could go back as Arthur Pendragon and see if he was someone that Merlin would want, and not someone living under the persona of another.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there staring blankly at nothing much, but eventually his stomach began to protest at the lack of sustenance and his head began to ache from lack of caffeine. He had no money and no way of getting home or anywhere at all without it. He just hoped that Viv was in a good mood and wouldn't mind him using the one of the office computers at the theatre.

It would probably take him the best part of an hour to walk there; he'd better get a move on.

-0-

"I can't believe this, Merlin," Gwen said sadly, and Merlin squirmed under her accusing gaze. "You're my best friend!"

"I tried to fight the attraction, Gwen, I really did," Merlin offered in his defence, knowing it was a weak argument. "I'm sorry."

Gwen's expression softened and she reached out to place her hand over Merlin's. "I know you wouldn't deliberately hurt me. Neither would Lance. He must really have fallen for you. It's just-" she hesitated and bit her lip.

"Just what, Gwen?"

"It's just – your version of Lance is the amnesiac; how are we going to know how he really feels until he gets his memory back? I mean – he's not really cheated on me when he doesn't remember me, has he?"

Merlin's heart clenched. Gwen was right; this was something he'd already considered. Now neither of them knew where they stood, and Lance had disappeared, probably confused. His van was still parked at Merlin's.

"I hope he's alright and that woman who was following him has realised he has nothing she wants now," Merlin said.

"What woman?" Gwen demanded.

They had a lot of catching up to do, Merlin concluded, his mind racing. Gwen hadn't punched him, that was good, but she clearly hoped that Lance would recover his memories and chalk up his time with Merlin as a blip; and could Merlin blame her? He was equally desperate for the opposite to occur.

"Hey, Gwen – good to see you back," Elena said, appearing at their table with an order pad and a smile. "I finally met your Lance the other day when Merlin brought him in. He's a good looking fella!" She tapped her pen on the order pad and looked expectantly at Merlin, who immediately reeled off his order even though his appetite had gone.

What if Lance didn't pick him?

Gwen followed suit with her order and Elena wrote it down and said, "Who's 'the stranger' though, Gwen? I think it's so exciting that you two communicate through the personals!"

"Oh, well, we don't really know who that is," Gwen said, shooting a probing look at Merlin who shook his head back. He had totally forgotten that the ad from 'the stranger' had been the reason Gwen had sent him to find Lance the other day in the first place.

"Well, whoever it is, there's an ad in the personals today that says 'Desperately Seeking Stranger seeking Lancelot' – have you seen it?"

With that bombshell dropped and without waiting for a reply she ambled off, tucking her pen behind her ear as she went to hand in their order.

Merlin and Gwen both looked at each other and said in unison, "What fucking stranger?"

-0-

Arthur had a change of plans after seeing the ad in the personals – he'd only checked on spec as he logged into his internet banking to arrange to collect some money from a nearby branch without his ID – it was only because of his name and the amount of money in his account that the transaction was agreed. He was the stranger, and someone was looking for him – he was going to be here tonight at half nine working his shift. Of course, this bar job was a job he no longer needed now that he had his identity back. He had a job running a multi-billion dollar company. A job he fully intended to take a sabbatical from once this mess was sorted out; Geoffrey would be only too happy to take the reins from him if he asked.

The only person likely to care that he had been missing for nearly a week would be Morgana, and Arthur knew he ought to call her and tell her he was okay, but he just wanted to get the evening out of the way first before he made contact with his real life and properly assumed the identity of Arthur Pendragon again. If he didn't call Morgana he could pretend for a little while that his name was Lancelot and he was a free man.

A man who was free to love whoever he wanted. He wanted to love _Merlin_.

Anyway, the only person who would place an ad like that had to the real Lancelot. Arthur had possession of his van and presumably the poor bloke had been worrying over its whereabouts. Arthur might shudder at the thought of living in a van, but it was clear that the vehicle meant a lot to Lancelot, it was obvious how much the owner loved and cared for it.

All Arthur had to do was wait. He checked his watch and figured he had about five hours before he had to take his identity back and face the world as Arthur Pendragon again. For the first time in his life, he truly recognised the lead that sank to the pit of his stomach for what it was: frustration.

-0-

"This had better work," Morgana sniffed as she followed Lance up the steps to the theatre. "This isn't the sort of place I normally frequent."

Knowing that she couldn't see him, Lance rolled his eyes. The Royal Court Theatre Café Bar was very nice, in his opinion, and should not be looked down upon because the serving staff did not wear supercilious expressions on their faces when they met a member of the general public who only paid basic rate tax.

"I hardly think advertising to meet at the Savoy would be appropriate," Lance fired back and, because he was a gentleman at heart, he held open the glass door for her. He could hardly believe that this was the same woman who had fallen asleep on her brother's sofa last night, stoned out of her mind.

He watched as Morgana glanced around her as they went down the internal stairs to the bar, "It looks okay I suppose, if a little crowded."

The two of them surveyed the heaving throng of patrons in the bar below. "It's the pre-theatre crowd," Lance decided, remembering Percy complaining about peaks and troughs when he had worked here. "I think there's a show at eight and most of these should leave then. Any sign of Arthur?"

Morgana sighed, her gaze softening at the mention of her brother. Lance concluded that he was her Achilles heel. She clearly loved him very much. "No, but I see Leon over there," she pointed at the far corner of the seating area at a broad shaggy blond haired man who was looking around him hopefully whilst a red haired woman sitting opposite him inspected her nails and gave off an air of wanting to be anywhere but there. "Oh God – he's brought Sophia!"

"Who – Arthur's wife?" Lance supposed she must have cut short her stay at the spa.

"Ugh," Morgana huffed. "I suppose we'd better go and rescue him."

None of them noticed the tall blonde woman hovering near a pillar at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes firmly fixed on the door behind the bar.

-0-

"So, Lance has been working here, huh?" Gwen had descended the stairs in front of Merlin and was looking around, as was Merlin, for a sign of Lance. "I was hoping he might want to settle down and get a job that doesn't involve him travelling and living in his van. I was hoping he would move into mine and-" Her eyes met Merlin's and she stopped talking before casting her eyes down to study her feet.

Merlin's gut twisted with guilt. Gwen had asked him to do her a favour and he had betrayed their friendship by falling in love with her boyfriend and by seducing him.

"Gwen, I'm sorry-"

She held out a hand, and Merlin stalled. "I don't blame you, Merlin. If Lance chooses you then I'll try to be happy for you both."

Merlin didn't know how to respond to that, because the selfish side of him wanted Lance all to himself, but the other part of him, the friend with a conscience wanted Gwen to be happy. They fell into a hug, and over Gwen's shoulder Merlin caught sight of Lance coming out of the door behind the bar, rubbing his hands on a towel and scanning the crowd with anxious eyes.

When his eyes lighted on Merlin he stilled and for a moment Merlin thought he was going to smile, but instead, he nodded and moved to serve a customer. Merlin swallowed, hard, and savouring a final glance at the man he'd come to feel so much for whilst he was still just _his_ before pulling out of Gwen's embrace and saying, "There he is." He tipped his head towards the bar.

"Where?" Gwen asked as her eyes scanned the people in the direction Merlin was indicating.

"There," Merlin tipped his head again, not wanting to point. "Serving at the bar."

There was no one else serving at the bar at that moment.

"I don't know where you mean," Gwen said, confused. "I can't see Lance. There's only that blond bloke serving at the minute."

"But…that's Lance."

"No, I've never seen him before in my life," she replied. "Are you winding me up, Merlin? Now really isn't the time for jokes."

"Um, no, that's Lance," he said, staring over to the bar, mesmerised by Lance's Adam's apple as he made small talk with his customer. "You know, tallish, blond, bloody gorgeous."

"Merlin, that – is – not – Lance."

"But-" Merlin managed to drag his eyes off La- the blond man behind the bar and give Gwen his full attention. "That's the man who was at Camden Lock in the spiral jacket and-" If that wasn't Lance then who the hell was he? Merlin's stomach churned and he had to clamp a hand over his mouth for a moment as he was certain his lunch was coming back to greet him.

"Hang on, there's Lance over there!" Gwen said her expression brighter now that it was apparent that her Lance had not cheated on her with her best friend. She pointed towards the far corner where a good looking dark haired man was deep in conversation with a very attractive slender brunette and tall blond man who was looking adoringly at her. Beside them at the table sat a pouting redhead, scrolling through her iPhone and ignoring the others. Gwen's smile faded as soon as it arrived. "Who is that he's with?"

Merlin dutifully murmured something about the brunette seeming to be 'with' the blond, but his mind was racing down other paths.

If that was Lance – who was the man he had he fallen for?

-0-

Arthur saw Merlin and enjoyed a moment of pure panic. What the hell was he doing there? Arthur was here to meet Lancelot and clear up this whole bloody mess, and now _Merlin_was here to distract him.

He'd planned on sorting this mess out before he went to see Merlin again. He hoped that Merlin would want _Arthur Pendragon _when he realised that was who he had had in his bed. Merlin was vibrant and exciting, he created art with his hands; Arthur worked in an office. Merlin's lifestyle was the complete opposite to Arthur's.

Sometimes Arthur thought that he had skipped from early twenties to middle-aged overnight.

Arthur had felt more at home in Merlin's sparsely furnished loft than he had for the past few years in the house he shared with Sophia. _Merlin_ felt like home, and Arthur had only known him a few days. He wanted those few days to become weeks, months, years; he wanted _always_.

The crowd in the bar began to thin as people started to gradually trickle upstairs to the evening performance, and as the room cleared Arthur felt the lead in his stomach twist as he saw his persistent stalker from the other night leaning against one of the pillars watching him intently. Great. Just what he needed, first Merlin, now _Morgause_. He glanced over to where Merlin had been a minute or two earlier and found that spot empty. A quick scan of the room revealed Merlin and his female companion arriving at a table in the corner and – oh fuck – Lancelot, Morgana, Leon and - bloody hell – Sophia!

It went from bad to worse.

Could this go any more wrong? What were his sister and his best friend doing here, and why had they brought his soon to be ex-wife? Not that Sophia seemed interested in the proceedings as she faffed around with her ever present iPhone, the tips of her fake nails almost glowing in the dark under the bar's lighting.

Time seemed to slip into slow motion; Merlin and the woman he'd been embracing – Arthur presumed it had to be the elusive Gwen – reached the corner table, and before the two parties could notice one another, Morgause lurched forwards at him, taking him completely by surprise and making a grab for the cord he was wearing around his neck containing the crystal that Arthur had forgotten he was wearing until it burned his neck at the force in which she yanked at it.

The cord did not yield, and Arthur couldn't help it when he loudly exclaimed, "Hey!" He almost fell backwards as he pushed his hands on the bar for leverage. "What the-"

"What do you think you're playing at?" Gwaine's angry voice from beside him was a lot louder than Arthur's had been, and if everyone in the room hadn't already been staring in shock at the proceedings, then they would be now. Morgause lurched again, this time her eyes glowed gold and the cord snapped into her grasp.

Vivian had grabbed the soda gun and she aimed it at Morgause, but it hit fresh air as she had already disappeared into the thinning crowd, the main prize of Lancelot's crystal curled in her greedy hand. "Someone stop her!" Vivian shouted, still aiming the gun into mid-air.

Arthur had time to process the looks of surprise on Merlin and Morgana's faces before he made the decision that _no one_ stole from him, even if the item in question wasn't his in the first place, he had responsibility for it because it had fallen into his hands for safekeeping. With a speed he hadn't known he possessed, he took off up the stairs after Morgause.

-0-

"What the hell?" Gwen exclaimed with wide eyes as they watched the commotion unfold.

"That's _my_ Lance," Merlin said proudly, and took off towards the stairs to follow him, not caring if he was called Lancelot or Rumplestiltskin; Shakespeare had got that thing about names exactly right – that was still _his_ blond in pursuit of a madwoman.

Merlin wasn't certain, but it seemed as though the thief had snatched the crystal that 'Lance' had been wearing around his neck for safekeeping since finding it in his coat pocket the other day.

The man that Merlin now knew to be the actual Lance followed close behind him. Instead of fleeing out of the front doors, the assailant had entered the office behind the front ticket desk, probably thwarted by the sheer numbers of people heading upstairs for the performance. Merlin noticed her disappearing inside and whatever-his-real-name-was following closely behind.

He cast a glance at Lance that said, 'What are you waiting for?' and the two of them nodded at one another before following.

They burst into the small office in tandem like superheroes spoiling for a fight. Merlin's eyes were immediately drawn to _his_ Rumplestiltskin, who had his strong arms wrapped around the waist if the woman from behind as she flailed and struggled to get away, "Get your hands off me you great lump!" she shouted, trying desperately to land a punch behind here. "I'm only claiming what's mine!"

"By ripping it from my neck?"

"I tried playing nice!"

They spun then, facing the Merlin and Lance who were stood gaping in the doorway. Merlin's jaw dropped when he saw who she was. "Morgause?"

Morgause stopped struggling. "Merlin?" she said, her voice heavy with shock. She snapped her head round. "_Would you let go of me_?"

The arms holding her in place fell to their owner's side and she staggered forwards, her usually pristine blonde curls falling over her face for her to angrily brush aside.

"You know this woman?"

Merlin's eyes met the blue eyes for a moment before he forced himself to look back at Morgause. "You could say that," he admitted. "Morgause is my half-sister."

"Admitting a family connection now are you, after all these years of pretending that I don't exist?" Morgause folded her arms in front of her chest and glared at Merlin as though he was a schoolboy who'd been caught cheating on his exam.

"You tried to steal from me," he said carefully, not wanting to admit the extent of what she had done in front of an audience. She had actually tried to steal his magic. She had some of her own, but her power was more in the sphere of party tricks than anything useful. Merlin, on the other hand, could've taken over the world with his power had he been so inclined, and his father's first born knew that. "What do you want with the crystal?" Merlin nodded in the direction of the pendant dangling from the cord between her fingers.

"It's the Crystal of Neahtid," Lance announced. "She's already killed for it once!"

Morgause ignored his outburst, preferring to glare menacingly at Merlin. "Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, you disappoint me if you honestly don't know that this is the Crystal of Neahtid! Once I get this around my neck then neither _you_ nor anyone else will be able to stop me from taking what is rightfully mine…"

Merlin rolled his eyes. Morgause was a real comedy villain. "Morgause, you disappoint me if you think that is the crystal of anything other than 'Merlin'. I've put the real thing somewhere very very safe; somewhere you will never find it. _That_ is merely a replica I cooked up by my own hand as soon as I realised what treasure had literally fallen at my feet when blondie here entered my life," Merlin nodded towards the man he'd shared a bed with the previous night. "Any _feeling_ you get from it is simply the residue from its creation."

Merlin was annoyed with himself that he hadn't realised what that the infamous crystal was when he'd had it in his hand the other day; it was an extremely dangerous magical weapon that Morgause could not be allowed to harness.

Morgause's eyes narrowed. "You're lying." She lifted the cord and began to slide it around her neck. Merlin flicked a warning glance at his blond who was standing silently to one side, his eyes focussed on Merlin as if he'd never seen him before, and another at Lance, hoping they would understand that she needed stopping, and fast. His bluff would only last as long as the cord stayed away from her neck.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold as he reached out with his magic to the crystal and snared it in a magical bubble. "No you don't you-" Morgause began, reaching out and grabbing Merlin's t-shirt around the collar to yank him forwards. The words died in her throat as Lance hit her over the head with a vase off the desk and her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell to the floor unconscious. Merlin's magic took hold of the crystal and floated it into his palm and he pushed it into the safety of his jeans pocket.

Lance stared down at his handy work before turning to face his audience with a beaming grin. "I always wanted to do that, I mean – it always works in the movies." He held his hand out to the blond. "You must be Arthur? I'm Lancelot."

_Arthur_. The name suited him far better than Lance.

Arthur glanced at Merlin quickly as if looking for a reaction, but Merlin's surprise over this man not being Lance was old news. Arthur turned back to Lance and said, "Pleased to meet you, I'm Arthur Pendragon." The eyes were back on Merlin.

Merlin tried not to react to _that_ name. _Arthur Pendragon._The only son of deceased billionaire Uther Pendragon, and the current CEO of Pendragon Corporation. Merlin wasn't impressed by money, but just – Arthur could probably pay off the national debt and not notice that the money had gone.

Lance, oblivious to the sudden tension, said, "She called you Merlin," he said and the three of them stared in unison at the prone figure of Morgause as she lay on the floor at their feet. "Would you be Gwen's Merlin by any chance?"

Merlin couldn't help but smile at Lance, there was something about him that could draw a smile from the most miserable of people. "That's me. It's nice to finally meet you – I've heard a lot about you." Which made it all the more amazing that he'd ever even believed that Arthur was Lance! They were nothing alike. He turned to Arthur, unable to keep the accusation from his voice when he asked, "When did you get your memory back?"

Arthur flushed. "When I woke up at the hospital yesterday, I tried to tell you-"

The door burst open and four people piled in. Gwen took one look at the unconscious woman on the floor and flung herself into Lance's arms. The brunette they'd seen Lance with earlier was next, catching sight of Arthur and saying, "Oh thank God," and stepping over Morgause to hug him tight. "Don't ever do that to me again," she chided, her cheek pressed into his chest.

"Yeah, mate, I never knew your sister _had_a heart until now," said shaggy beard.

The fourth person stood in the doorway, one finger twirling a lone red curl that had fallen loose from her chignon. All eyes turned to her, and realising this she pouted and stepped forwards. "Arthur, honey, I was sooo worried! How could you just run off like that? You know how I fret when we're apart." She sidled over to him and pressed her gloss covered lips to his cheek. "I know we had a little teeny argument, but I'm still your wife."

Merlin heard his own gasp at her words. _Wife_. Oh God, Arthur was _married_. This was worse than when he'd thought he'd fallen for Gwen's boyfriend!

"Excuse me," he said, back towards the door. "I'm going to go and head off any security that might be lurking outside – can someone call the police? We don't have long; Morgause will be back with us soon. I've got to get this crystal as far away from her as possible; there will be no looking into the future tonight." The crystal was rumoured to have great powers – seeing into the future and mind control of others being just a couple of them.

Merlin didn't care that most of what he had just said would make no sense to anyone other than Gwen. He just needed to get out of there and away from the married man he had handed his heart to on a platter.

He couldn't look at Arthur as he turned to leave. He might never get to look at him again.

-0-

"Get the hell off me!" Arthur spat, shoving Sophia unceremoniously away from him. "I said I wanted a divorce and I wasn't joking – what are you even doing here?"

"_He_forced me to come," Sophia spat, pointing at Leon with her thumb.

"I wouldn't have if I'd known Arthur had actually left you for good!" Leon elbowed Arthur good naturedly in the side. "Finally come to your senses huh?"

Arthur forced a smile and fixed his gaze on the door, hoping it would open any moment and Merlin would come back. "You could say that."

-0-

"How did Morgause almost get her hands Crystal of Neahtid?" Merlin asked Gaius, over a pot of tea. "The damned thing has been missing for centuries; it finally turns up and then stolen straight away! She _killed _someone to get her hands on it!" Admittedly the police were only pressing manslaughter charges because the crystal thief's mother had hit her head on the corner of a shelf during a struggle with Morgause and died as a result. They had not been able to prove intent. Still – when Merlin thought about what could have happened to Arthur…

Morgause was currently languishing on remand at Her Majesty's pleasure following her arrest at the theatre the other night. The crystal was safely locked away and destined for a high security home in the bowels of some government facility or other.

"Who knows what goes on in that woman's head, Merlin?" Gaius sighed and took a sip of his tea. "It's all about the power for her, look what she tried to do to you, not that it would've worked mind – your magic belongs inside you and would've broken her apart trying to get back. Others have made similar attempts on people like you and died trying."

"Hmm," Merlin responded, his mind slipping to Arthur Pendragon for the umpteenth time since he'd last seen him as he'd been answering the police questions at the theatre. _Married_. The mild rejection he'd felt when Nim had left him paled into utter insignificance compared to this.

Arthur had slept with him _after _getting his memory back. Had he been using Merlin to get back at his wife? A get out of jail free card to be played in the event of a temporary break-up? Merlin didn't want to think about it, but of course, that meant he could think about nothing else.

"Merlin, what _is _the matter with you? Are you still smarting over Morgause?"

"God no, I got over her betrayal years ago and it's not like we were ever close."

"Then, my boy, what is wrong?"

"Nothing, Gaius," Merlin lied. "It's just the inevitable crash after all the excitement."

Gaius raised an eyebrow but said nothing further.

-0-

Lance hadn't expected that he'd like Morgana as much as he did, or that Gwen would form an instant bond with her and that they'd start planning a 'girl's night out' for the two of them and Gwen's friend Elena.

He was also surprised by his own instant rapport with Arthur. Their experiences of the last week or so bound them together somehow, and Lance had a feeling that he and Arthur were going to be very good friends.

This made Lance want to help him out; the man was even more miserable that Morgana had told him he had been during what she was already referring to as 'the Sophia years'.

Arthur had already been to see a solicitor about a divorce, and Sophia was manically backtracking and trying to make up with Arthur when she had been reminded by Morgana that one of the many forms she had signed prior to her marriage to Arthur had been a watertight pre-nup that meant she only got out of the marriage what she put in, which based on her track record of failed businesses, was nothing.

Lance mightn't always be the most astute of people, but it was clear to him that Arthur was pining for Merlin. Merlin had not made contact with Arthur; Arthur had not made contact with Merlin. Lance hadn't met Merlin again since Saturday night, but Gwen had, and her report was that Merlin was wallowing without Arthur.

This would not do.

-0-

"He won't want to see me," Arthur protested when he realised where he'd been lured to. The sign above the door stating, 'Spitalfields Market' gave the game away somewhat. From their rooftop conversations Arthur knew that Merlin's stall here was his most successful, and on the last Sunday of every month he staffed it himself.

"Stop making assumptions," Morgana said, looping one arm through his, the other through Leon's and lead them both into the busy market. "I know for a fact that he's moping after you, and now Gwen's told him you're not going to be married for much longer neither of you has an excuse."

Arthur felt sick. He couldn't remember being this nervous since – well ever really. Gwen, Lance, and Morgana – what if they were wrong? What if Merlin didn't want anything to do with him? Arthur had lied by omission when he'd failed to tell Merlin who he really was that night.

"Arthur, do you want to go back to that miserable half-life you were living before this happened?"

Arthur dropped his head. He never wanted to be that person again. Losing his memory had been the making of him. Meeting Merlin had shown him what love could be like. Even if Merlin rejected him, he couldn't simply sit back and not try.

"Alright, alright. Where is he?"

Morgana grinned happily and pulled him into a hug. "I knew you'd make the right decision," she said. "I knew it."

Leon patted him on the back and said, "Nice one mate."

-0-

Merlin's heart wasn't in it this week. Usually he enjoyed his Sundays at the market, but this time he felt flat and all he wanted to do was go home and work, not that manning the stall wasn't work, but to Merlin this was a necessary evil – the making and creating of the jewellery was where all the effort went and was what he loved doing.

Gwen and Lance had offered to come along and help out; Gwen often worked his stalls for him as the money supplemented her income, but today her excuse was that Lance had decided to stick around in London and needed a job – and as Cedric had handed in his notice as one of Merlin's regular workers there was a gap to be filled. It wasn't the kind of job that required Lance's time every day – he could still write his books and head off for a few days in his van.

It seemed that Merlin had a new employee.

As usual, the crowd around his stall was three deep, and it took Merlin a while to notice the blond head push his way through from the back and stand in the middle of the stall, his eyes fixed on Merlin.

"Arthur."

"Merlin."

They stared silently at one another, the crowd fading away as everything narrowed down to this, the pounding of his heart and _Arthur_.

Arthur's sister appeared at his side and elbowed him in the ribs.

"I - I never meant to deceive you," Arthur said finally. "I just wanted you so much that I was afraid to spoil it. My marriage was over long before I met you."

Merlin searched Arthur's face and saw the hope he had been wishing for.

"I wanted you too," he said, suddenly uncomfortably aware that the crowd around the stall had stopped browsing and were staring at them both. He found that he didn't care enough to rein himself in. "I want to give this a try, what do you think?"

Merlin blinked in surprise when Arthur disappeared from view, only to gasp as he appeared from under the table, on his knees. Staring up at Merlin with a smirk he held out his hand and Merlin pulled him to his feet, even though he knew Arthur was more than capable of doing it himself.

Arthur tipped his head and pressed his lips against Merlin's before pulling back and saying, "So, you're a little bit magic."

Merlin nodded, sliding his hands over Arthur's hipbones and around his back to pull him closer. He licked his lips and said, "So are you."

Their lips met again and the small crowd gather cheered and Merlin saw the man he now knew to be Leon punch the air and holler, "Woooot!" before he closed his eyes and sank into Arthur.

-0-

Lance winked at Morgana from his position on the selling side of Merlin's stall and turned to Gwen.

"If I asked you to marry me now," he said quietly, "Would you mind that all the attention isn't on us?"

"No," Gwen said, wide eyed. "I'd only mind if you didn't ask."

Lance dropped to one knee.

-0-

**The End**


End file.
